


Shad

by Corellias_Dream



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Amnesia, Dubious Consent, Healing, Interrogation, M/M, Mental Anguish, Sexual Discovery, Wedge is vulnerable, discussion of non-binary sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corellias_Dream/pseuds/Corellias_Dream
Summary: While touring as a Hero of the New Republic, Wedge Antilles is captured by Moff Raworth, one of Isard's loyalists. Raworth is fascinated by the pilot and watches the interrogation with interest. Wedge is desparate to protect the information he holds in his head, but knows he cannot hold out forever. When his will finally begins to crumble, his mind finds a drastic way to protect the secrets he knows. Moff Raworth may not be able to get the information, but he still has the pilot in his control.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shad is a story in four parts; the explicit stuff is in part 2, but the rating for the rest is for a Mature audience.   
> The last section was longer than the first two, so I've decided to split it and have four chapters, instead of three. You'll just have to wait a while longer for the resolution.

Three months into his public relations tour, Wedge Antilles felt he was starting to get the hang of the job. They’d given him a small support team of trained diplomats, who actually knew what they were doing, and Wedge had listened carefully to their advice. Whether he wanted to make a good impression for the sake of the New Republic, or simply to avoid humiliating himself, was a question he didn’t care to think about too much. Wedge had learnt to be more demonstrative to the crowds that, to his surprise, turned out to see him on each planet he visited. He learnt to stride confidently onto a platform, to wave boldly at the crowd, to accept gifts and discreetly hand them to his aide and he learnt to keep smiling for minutes at a time for the holo-ops, without his expression becoming fixed.

Wedge’s increasing confidence in his ability to play diplomat did not, however, make the average diplomatic reception any less dull. The only good points about this particular occasion were the quality of the wine and his present company. Major Beskin had started his military career as a starfighter pilot back during the Clone Wars. Although he’d not flown a single-seater in over twenty years, he’d kept up with developments in starfighter combat. A few minutes after being introduced, Wedge and Major Beskin were engrossed in a comparison of starfighter tactics that effectively excluded everyone else in the room.

“Of course, our ships weren’t as rugged as your X-wings,” Major Beskin commented. “We couldn’t take the same risks in, say, offering one fighter as a target to set up a shot for another.”

Wedge nodded. “That’s one reason why I continue to prefer them to the A-wing. The A-wing is excellent in certain roles, of course, but I think the X-wing is more versatile.” He broke off as the major shifted his weight from foot to foot, wincing slightly. “Are you all right, Sir ?”

The elderly major nodded, forcing a smile. “That question is a sign of your youth, Commander Antilles. If you were my age, you’d know that standing around at diplomatic functions is hard on the legs.”

Wedge glanced around the crowded reception room. Most of the floor space was taken up with chattering groups and a few bored individuals, clutching their drinks. He noted that none of his own party were nearby, and his lack of height made it hard for him to identify anyone further away in the crowd. There were some chairs and tables by the walls, but those that Wedge could glimpse through the crowd were occupied. He turned back to his companion.

“We could see if there are any chairs free ?” he suggested.

Major Beskin smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think we can manage better, Commander. There are some smaller conversation rooms off this main hall. The chairs there are more comfortable and we can talk easily, without having to make ourselves heard over everyone else. If you are agreeable ?” he added.

Wedge nodded. “I would like that.”

One of the things Wedge disliked about these receptions was the volume of noise. Any conversation had to compete against dozens of others, and quite often against background music too. Wedge found an hour at a busy reception was as draining as an hour of starfighter combat. His admiration for Princess Leia had been growing steadily as he faced the same round of parades and receptions that she faced as a regular duty.

He followed Major Beskin as the older man wove his way through the crowd. The major seemed to know where he was going. Wedge managed a quick swallow of his wine as they rounded an elaborate pyramid of flowers that was taller than he was. The wall in front of them was set with deep alcoves, each draped with hangings that shimmered in green, blue and gold. The major eased his way between a pair of hangings, and Wedge followed. Beyond was an open door into a high-ceilinged ante-chamber with three doors leading into further rooms. Once through the hangings, the noise level diminished noticeably.

The major looked over his shoulder to check that Wedge was still with him, and smiled conspiratorially. He gestured at the other doors.

“I sometimes think that whoever designed this palace, hated formal receptions too. Hence these small conversation rooms. They’re also good for those who wish to indulge in a little quiet gambling.”

Wedge grinned back. “I didn’t bring any cards though.”

“Never mind. I want to hear more about how you brought down the Empire’s AT-AT’s on Hoth. Why did you fight in those converted airspeeders, instead of your X-wings ?”

Wedge grimaced. “That wasn’t my decision, or Luke’s.” He continued talking as they crossed the ante-chamber. “The techs had only just got the airspeeders fully converted to working on Hoth. The cold there played havoc with their systems; the lubricants we normally used just froze up. Relays kept tripping out.” He followed the major through a door into one of the side rooms. “Components got so brittle with the cold they just snapped. One of the pedals on my speeder snapped when I was out on patrol, making a sharp banking move. I was in a snowdrift before I knew what was…”

Occupied with his memories and the conversation, Wedge was off-guard. He glimpsed movement from the corner of his eye, someone behind him. The stun bolt hit him as he started to turn his head. He reeled half a pace and slumped untidily onto the thick carpet.

As the shooter hurried to close the door, Major Beskin crouched down and examined the unconscious man. Wedge lay limply as the major checked his pulse and respiration. Satisfied, the major retrieved the glass that Wedge had dropped, and eased himself stiffly back to his feet. Another door opened, and two anonymously dressed guards entered. Together, they picked Wedge up and swiftly retreated.

“One of the easiest jobs I’ve ever done,” the man who’d stunned Wedge remarked contemptuously. “Some hero.”

Major Beskin gave him a hard look. “You’d find him a different proposition in an X-wing. Even off his guard, he noticed you. You almost lost the element of surprise.”

The shooter shrugged. “Antilles is the one who’s unconscious though, and on his way to Moff Raworth.”

“I’d better get back to the reception,” Major Beskin said brusquely. He turned and left, forcing himself to forget the kinship he’d felt for a fellow pilot; a man now destined for a Imperial Moff’s interrogation cells.

Moff Raworth arrived in the hangar as the whine of the shuttle’s engines died away. He walked briskly across the permacrete floor, a guard following a few paces behind. The Moff was an imposing figure, tall and broad-shouldered, with strong features. Powerful muscles had softened with time, his waist had thickened and the sharp lines of cheekbones and jaw had blurred with a light layer of fat. He moved easily enough though, and a keen intelligence shone in his narrow blue eyes.

Raworth sensed a sudden alertness among the techs and other staff working nearby. No doubt they were wondering why the Moff of Heppert Sector had come here to meet this particular shuttle. The answer was simply that Raworth was impatient to see his prize. On that shuttle was the result of weeks of careful planning; a tool that would enhance his position with Ysanne Isard.

The shuttle’s ramp hissed open and an immaculately turned-out captain emerged. He descended the ramp and threw a pinpoint-sharp salute.

“At ease,” Raworth said. “Did you have any trouble during the flight ?”

“No, your Excellency. We followed your instructions to the byte.”

Moff Raworth looked away from him as two more soldiers emerged from the shuttle guiding a repulsorbed between them. He allowed himself to smile at the sight of the man on the bed. Restraints were fastened over the prisoner’s wrists, legs and chest, but they were hardly necessary. He lay quietly, his head tilted to one side, eyes closed. At the Moff’s signal, the soldiers stopped alongside him. Raworth studied the prisoner with curiosity.

“He’s smaller than I expected,” he remarked. _Seems younger too. According to the records, he’s twenty-five, but he looks barely twenty. Not physically imposing, but he’s every bit as good-looking as his holos suggested. No wonder the Rebels chose you as their poster-boy, Commander Antilles_.

Raworth took hold of Antilles’ chin and moved his head, rolling it towards himself. Antilles’ eyes opened slowly; green/brown eyes, hazed with drugs. He focussed momentarily on Raworth’s face, and the moff glimpsed the depth of character in Wedge Antilles. Then the mottled eyes lost focus again and slid closed.

Moff Raworth released his hold and stepped back. He signalled for the soldiers to continue on their way. As he left the hangar, Raworth contemplated what he’d seen for that brief moment in Wedge Antilles’ eyes.

_Breaking you, Antilles, may be quite a challenge. And all the sweeter when I succeed._

The interrogation room was white, brightly-lit and clinical. On one wall there was a large insert of dulled, mirrored glass, which Wedge suspected was a one-way window, with some kind of monitoring room on the other side. A large, high-backed chair dominated the centre of the room, with banks of displays and monitoring equipment nearby. Wedge made no attempt to struggle as the guards led him towards the chair, and obeyed the curt order to sit down. These guards were alert and professional, offering him no chance to tackle one, let alone both. In any case, they were armed with Blastech Quieteners, low-powered stunners; if he made any sudden moves, one shot would leave him on the floor, semi-conscious. He’d achieve nothing more than a stunner headache and the indignity of being dragged to wherever they wanted him.

One guard kept him covered, while the other fastened restraints around his legs, chest and arms, securing him to the chair. In this white, clinical room, Wedge felt horribly conspicuous in his yellow prison jumpsuit. He fought to keep his feelings from his face, as the guards retreated and left him alone with his interrogator. Not that it really mattered. After becoming commander of Rogue Squadron, Wedge had been briefed on what would happen to him if he should be captured by Imperial forces. He knew that the chair would have bio-sensors, relaying details of his blood pressure, respiration and pulse rate to monitors around the room. The high back that his head rested against was probably recording brain activity too. Wedge was scared, and his interrogator would read it on his monitors.

He had no idea how long he’d been in this prison facility, just as he had no idea of how long it had taken them to bring him here. For all Wedge knew, he was still on the planet where he’d been captured. His memories of the time between leaving the reception room with the major, and waking in his cell, were few and vague. They’d let him come round enough to drink some kind of nutrient fluid, then another dose of tranquilliser would put him out until it was time for the next drink. That was all Wedge could recall of the his journey. Right now, Wedge was certain that he wasn’t on a spaceship or a space station. This facility had the same kind of artificial climate control, but there wasn’t the subtle vibration of engines or power units that an experienced spacer could feel.

The interrogator came and stood in front of the chair, studying Wedge with a bright, dispassionate curiosity. He was a pale-skinned, bony man, who might almost have been mistaken for one of the long-term prisoners in this facility, if not for the alert intelligence in his face.

“Commander Antilles.” His voice was unexpectedly deep and pleasant. “I’ve been looking forward to this challenge. I’m glad to see you here at last.”

“Where exactly is here ?” Wedge asked.

The interrogator showed his teeth in a smile. “I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information to you. In any case, my job is to extract information from you, not to divulge it. Today, I’m going to give you a dose of Egolithadride.” He watched Wedge closely as he spoke. “Yes, I see you recognize the name. You know that it affects the areas of the brain that monitor self-control. It’s rather like being drunk, but without the pleasantness of the drinking. Just as you lose inhibitions, and blurt out indiscreet remarks when drunk, the Egolithadride reduces your ability to control what you say to me when I ask questions.”

As he talked, the interrogator moved past Wedge and out of his line of sight. Wedge could still hear him speaking, and hear other, softer noises, of a closet or container being opened.

“Now, do hold still, or this could be unnecessarily painful.”

The interrogator was back, standing close beside the chair. A hand under his chin lifted Wedge’s head, pressing it against the back of the chair. and a moment later he felt a slight sting at his throat as the drug was administered.

“There. In a couple of minutes that will be fully absorbed into your system.”

The interrogator moved away, leaving Wedge in peace for a brief space.

_Giving me time to think about it. To anticipate what will happen and do part of his work for him, by scaring myself even before he says anything. I have to concentrate, find something to think about. Not this bleak room, or the way he looks at me like I’m a lab specimen, or what will happen to me when this is all over._ Wedge swallowed, aware of the fear that sat coldly in his belly. He closed his eyes. _Think of…home. I keep thinking of home. Corellia, Gus Treta, my bedroom with the holomap of Coronet City projected on the walls. Concentrate on that. Coronet City._

“What’s your unit designation ?” The question came suddenly.

“Rogue Lea..” Wedge shut his mouth abruptly and stared at the interrogator. He tried to force his mind back to the holomap, but the questions started coming rapidly. Demands for names, places, fleet numbers, trivial information like his date of birth. The rapid changes of topic kept breaking his concentration, sending his mind on new lines of thought. Between the questions came short lectures, the interrogator talking about the New Republic, and slipping in casual questions “That’s right, isn’t it ?”

Time and again Wedge caught himself on the verge of answering those questions, of correcting inaccuracies. Even when he tried to remain silent, he found himself starting to speak, blurting out responses before his mind caught up and stopped the words in mid-sentence. With every near-admission, his frustration and anxiety grew. It was like a bizarre game, pitting his ability to concentrate against the interrogator’s skill, but the drug handicapped him from the outset. The mental effort needed wore him down, making it ever harder for Wedge to keep control over his words and thoughts. He was aware that he was starting to babble, a nonsense of songs, military regulations and jokes. A hodgepodge of thoughts and associations that spilled out as he tried to avoid thinking of the sensitive information locked in his head.

When the guards came to take him back to his cell, the babbling had changed to sobs of exhaustion. Wedge’s mind felt as foggy as a Dagobah swamp, but he was sure he hadn’t revealed anything important. He’d won the first round. It was a small victory, but enough to sustain him until the next session.

Moff Raworth liked to watch the interrogations from the monitoring room. He didn’t usually attend interrogations, of course; his time was taken up with other duties, and his team was highly trained and professional. He learnt all he needed to know about most interrogations through the neatly-presented reports that came to his desk. This case was different, so he stayed in the monitor room, surrounded by screen displays and watching through the one-way viewport.

His interest was partly from the military point of view. Commander Antilles was far more valuable than the average squadron leader. He was known to have associated with prominent rebels, like Princess Leia Organa, and the so-called Jedi, Luke Skywalker. Reports suggested that Antilles took his orders directly from Ackbar, the overall commander of the rebel fleet. Moff Raworth was sure that Ysanne Isard would be pleased when he gave her the information pulled from Antilles’ mind.

On another level, it was the man himself who interested Raworth. He hadn’t been able to forget that moment when he’d looked into Antilles’ eyes in the hangar. The battle of wills between the interrogator and the man strapped to the chair was as fascinating as he’d anticipated. This was Antilles’ second session, and Raworth was impressed as how well he was holding up. The interrogator, Kanner, had stopped the flow of questions for a few minutes. Antilles was slumped in the chair, his head resting against the high back, his eyes closed. Bio-data from the chair’s sensors was displayed on a screen to Raworth’s left, indicating that Antilles was almost asleep. The brief periods of rest were part of the process of breaking a prisoner. Antilles would be groggy and disorientated when woken again, more liable to let information slip. At the moment, Antilles looked fragile; even when resting, his face was pinched and haggard. He looked far older than when he’d arrived on the shuttle.

Kanner returned to Antilles, briskly shaking him awake again. Antilles moaned softly as his eyes opened and he lifted his head. Raworth chose to watch via a screen, zooming in the holocam to concentrate on Antilles’ face. The hazel eyes were dull initially, but Raworth saw intelligence and determination shine again in them as the questions continued. The moff sighed quietly, regretting that such a remarkable young man had chosen to join the rebels, instead of fighting for the Empire.

_You could have been feted and honoured as Colonel Fel was, before he defected. Instead, the handsome hero that the rebels have been parading around, will make his next and last public appearance at his trial. The Rebels were making a big fuss about how you defied the Empire, and flew against its Death Stars. But the Empire has caught up with you and the galaxy will see what happens to those who defy us. Your piloting skills, your intelligence, your hopes and dreams; they have no future. Your future ends in the ion chair, Antilles, like a common murderer._

Wedge changed position restlessly, burying his face against the thin pillow and covering his eyes with his arm, but it didn’t block the light very well. He tried to relax, to get the sleep he desperately needed, but he was never allowed more than a brief nap. The small, bleak cell was brightly lit at all times and when Wedge did doze off, he was soon woken by a shrill alarm that set his teeth on edge.

Wedge yawned. He’d gotten pretty good at sleeping in places other than a nice, dark bedroom. He could nap easily enough during long hyperspace jumps in the cockpit of his X-wing. He’d slept in chairs in ready rooms, in corridors, at his desk and even on a stack of crates in a hangar. None of that helped now. His own thoughts were doing almost as much to keep him awake as the Imperials’ sleep deprivation techniques.

The bitter truth was that he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out against the drugs. The sleep deprivation made it harder still to resist the questions, especially when they told him that he could sleep just as soon as he told them everything. Wedge knew that under the influence of the drugs, his increasing need for sleep would eventually cause him to answer the questions before he could stop himself.

_Answer their questions and sleep. Sleep forever. Once they’ve got all they can from me, it’ll be trial and execution. A heavy ion charge to short out my nervous system, and I’ll be resting forever. After I’ve betrayed all I hold dear._

He curled up more tightly, his body revealing the conflict in his mind. Wedge knew, logically, that the information in his head wasn’t enough to be fatal to the New Republic. Command would assume that the Empire was responsible for his disappearance, and codes would be changed, some bases abandoned, units moved. There was other information that Wedge could betray though. He could give identities and descriptions of agents like Winter and Kapp Dendo. He knew a lot about the size and distribution of the New Republic Fleet. There was plenty the Imps could pull from him about people he’d worked with, like Admiral Ackbar and General Cracken. His knowledge of them as individuals could be exploited by Imperial Intelligence.

Yes, the Empire could make good use of his knowledge, especially with the former head of Imperial Intelligence in charge now. Exhausted and close to breaking, it was impossible for Wedge to remain calmly logical.

_Sooner or later, I’ll tell them what they want to know. There are stronger drugs they can use on me, ones that will bring back memories long since forgotten. Drugs to cause pain if I lie, stronger drugs to break down my will power. Eventually, they will force me into doing as they wish._ Anger began to displace the fear and despair. _They’ll force me to betray everything I’ve worked for, and given my life to. Maybe it’s just stubborn Corellian pride, but I’d rather die than let them beat me. But they’ve taken care to see that I can’t cheat them that way. All I can do is to go down fighting, resisting for as long as possible._

The hiss of the cell door opening jerked him from his thoughts. Wedge moved his arm and rolled over, blinking in the strong light at the two guards who entered his cell. Strangers, but as crisp and professional as their predecessors. The guards who marched him to and from his cell had been different every time. It was part of the prison routine, intended to keep him feeling strange and isolated, with no familiar faces other than the interrogator. Wedge knew this was a tactic designed to create a bond between prisoner and interrogator, but that knowledge couldn’t make him immune to the effect.

He stood up wearily, and held his arms out in front for the nearer guard to fasten the binders on his wrists. As the guard gestured for him to move, Wedge lifted his chin and walked steadily out to the interrogation room.

Moff Raworth saw the moment when Wedge began to break. The spark of rebellion in Antilles’ eyes had been dimmed with weariness even before this session had begun. He’d reached the babbling stage much faster than before, pleas for rest dominating his speech. Kanner was carefully managing the drugs he used, administering just enough stimulant to keep Antilles awake without relieving the fatigue. The prisoner’s bio-readings fluctuated, indicating a body locked in a grinding cycle of exhaustion and nervous stress. Wedge Antilles was finally succumbing to the inevitable.

Although the interrogation room was well insulated, microphones picked up sounds and replayed them through a speaker in the monitoring room. Raworth had heard a change in Antilles’s voice.

“We know you receive your orders from Ackbar,” Kanner was saying. “His flagship is _Home One_ , isn’t it ? What sector is it in now ?”

“No, no, no.” Antilles was shaking his head. His eyes were almost closed, the strain distorting his face. The repeated ‘no’ was becoming desperate.

Raworth studied the monitor with a sense of excitement. Kanner’s voice was soft, persuasive.

“Tell me about Admiral Ackbar. Tell me all you know about his strategies for fighting the Empire, and then you can rest.”

“No !” Antilles was becoming agitated, his arms jerking against the restraints. A glance at the bio monitor told Raworth that his pulse, blood pressure and respiration had all increased sharply.

“Is Ackbar planning to move on Coruscant yet ?” Kanner went on insistently. “Where’s he going to establish his forward bases ?”

“No ! No !” Antilles didn’t even seem to be hearing the questions. He tugged futilely against the restraints, his eyes wild. The cries became less coherent, his movements more frantic.

Kanner stopped the questions and studied his displays intently. Raworth reached for the comm switch and paused, watching in silence. He wasn’t sure if Antilles was hysterical, or having a full-scale panic attack. Kanner was starting to look anxious now, clearing wondering how long the attack would last. The interrogator turned and opened a cabinet, taking out a bottle and a syringe. As he started to draw fluid into the syringe, Antilles abruptly collapsed.

Kanner was at his side in a moment, examining the prisoner. Raworth looked at the bio displays, and was relieved to see that Antilles’ life signs were dropping back to normal. He flicked the comm switch, keeping the volume low.

“How is he ?”

“He should be fine,” Kanner answered. “I don’t think he’ll be unconscious long.”

Antilles was slumped in the chair, only the restraints holding him upright.

“I guess you reached his breaking point,” Raworth commented. “We should get everything we want from him now.”

Kanner started to clear away the syringe and bottle. “It’s highly probable, though I can’t guarantee it. A collapse like that usually leads to a breakdown of resistance. Antilles has been highly resistant to manipulation though. If he realizes, consciously or otherwise, that these attacks are an escape from interrogation, he may do it again.”

Raworth understood. It was possible that he’d have to hand Antilles over to Isard, to see if her people could get information from him. He found himself oddly reluctant to hand Antilles over to her cold grasp. He wanted to keep control of Antilles himself, even if the end result of trial and execution would be the same. He looked through the viewport, studying the young man in the interrogation chair. As he watched, he saw Antilles stir slightly.

“He’s coming round,” he warned.

Kanner returned to the chair, waiting there as Antilles lifted his head, slowly opening his eyes. The prisoner looked dazed.

“Just co-operate with me, and there won’t be any more unpleasantness,” Kanner said calmly. “Tell me about Ackbar; where’s his ship now ?”

Antilles looked puzzled, dark brows drawing together. “I…I don’t understand.” He stared blankly at the interrogator.

“You take your orders directly from Admiral Ackbar. You’ve worked closely with him. I want to know what you know about him.”

Antilles shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t remember any Ackbar.” He glanced about the room, eyes widening with fear. “Where am I ?”

In the monitoring room, Raworth was frowning. A knot of uncertainty had formed in his stomach. Kanner remained outwardly calm. He moved slightly to one side, where he could easily see both the chair’s bio-monitors, and the prisoner’s face.

“You’re quite safe,” he said reassuringly. “Tell me how old you are.”

Antilles was breathing faster, visibly anxious. “I…I don’t know.” He pulled his right wrist against the restraint.

“What planet were you born on ?” Kanner asked.

“Planet ? I don’t know.” Antilles shook his head. “Where am I ?” he repeated, looking around the room again.

Kanner put a hand on the prisoner’s shoulder. “What’s your name ?”

Antilles stared at him, thinking hard. “I don’t know. I can’t remember !” He pulled hard at the arm restraints, then slumped back into the chair. “What’s wrong with me ? Why can’t I remember ?” he begged.

“You had an accident,” Kanner told him, with barely a moment’s hesitation. “We’re trying to help you. Don’t panic. Calm down and wait a couple of minutes while I go check your scans.”

As the interrogator walked from the room, Wedge Antilles watched him every step of the way, reluctant to let him out of his sight.

Raworth looked up from the displays as Kanner entered the monitoring room.

“The datastream gives an 86% probability that he’s telling the truth, that he doesn’t remember his own name,” Raworth said, staring through narrowed eyes at the interrogator.

Kanner nodded. “The stress he’s under will affect the readings. The figure is more likely around 90%.”

“What’s happened ?” Raworth demanded, watching as Kanner began calling up new dataflows on the screens.

“My first thought is dissociative amnesia,” Kanner replied, studying a chart of the prisoner’s brain activity.

Raworth waited impatiently for further explanation. A quick glance through the viewport reassured him that Antilles was sitting quietly, studying the equipment around him with a bewildered expression.

“Look at these two sets of patterns,” Kanner said, indicating a screen. “This one is from before the breakdown, when I was asking Antilles about Ackbar. You can see these areas of the brain are active, as he retrieves memories. He didn’t divulge the memories, of course, but the word ‘Ackbar’ has associations for him. It starts to activate the area of the brain where ‘Ackbar’ memories, some of them at least, as stored.” Kanner pointed a bony finger at the other set of patterns. “This is what happened when I asked him about Ackbar just after he regained consciousness.”

“No activity in that part of his brain,” Raworth said.

“Exactly.” Kanner pressed a button, and both sets of brain patterns began to move.

Raworth could see that there was less activity in the second set.

“This is where I’m asking him personal questions,” Kanner continued. “And as you can see, very little memory activity.”

“Genuine amnesia, then,” Raworth said, scratching the side of his neck. “But how could it come on so suddenly ?”

Kanner turned towards the viewport, looking thoughtfully at the man in the other room.

“Dissociative amnesia is a defence mechanism. When a person is under intolerable stress, they may enter what is known as a fugue state. They escape from the stress by physical flight, leaving home suddenly, and by forgetting everything about who they are. They blank out the stressful situation by effectively blanking themselves and starting over somewhere else.”

Raworth blinked. “I’m sure I’ve seen that plot in a bad holodrama.”

Kanner smiled suddenly. “Most likely. But it’s based on a real medical condition. In this case, Antilles couldn’t flee physically because of the restraints holding him to the chair. He’s escaped from the stress of the interrogation by losing his personality.”

“You said this amnesia is a defence mechanism. We’ve been trying to force him to reveal memories that he wants to protect. Could this amnesia be a way of protecting those memories ?” Raworth asked.

Kanner pursed his lips as he thought. “It’s possible. Most likely it’s a combination of factors. Antilles is clearly desperate to protect the information in his mind, but he knows that he can’t hold out forever under interrogation. The amnesia protects the data in his head, because he can’t access it, and at the same time he escapes the trauma of the interrogation by dissociating himself from the person being interrogated. Wedge Antilles is no longer present.”

“A split personality ? Wedge Antilles, tucked away in his unconscious mind, and this new person, who doesn’t know any of Antilles’ secrets ?”

“Essentially so. It’s a drastic solution to his problem, but the human mind is capable of remarkable things.”

Moff Raworth stared though the viewport. “So how long will this last ? How do we get Wedge Antilles back ?”

Kanner shook his head slowly. “A true fugue state can last for months, even years. Further interrogation will be useless; it will merely reinforce the stress that caused him to forget in the first place. If pushed sufficiently, his personality could fracture even further.” Kanner spoke with the bright interest of a scientist considering a new experiment.

“Would memory-enhancing drugs help him regain his memory ?” Raworth asked.

Kanner shook his head. “They enhance the recall of forgotten memories. Antilles hasn’t truly forgotten details like his name. He’s effectively blocked access to his personal memories. It’s almost certain that he retains life skills like using a datapad, even flying an X-wing.”

Raworth sighed. “What can we do ?”

The confidence ebbed from Kanner’s narrow face. “I need to do more research. I suggest he be removed from everything that reinforces the need to forget who he is. I doubt if he’ll recover in a prison environment, at least not any time soon.”

Raworth was silent for a minute, gazing through the viewport.

_I doubt if Isard’s people could achieve anything that we couldn’t. You sacrificed yourself to protect your allies; would any of my soldiers do that for me ? I’m glad I don’t need to hand you over to Isard, Antilles. I don’t want to see you die just yet. You look so vulnerable there, your eyes frightened as you look around. It makes me feel powerful. I can control you utterly; mind and body. You don’t know who you are or who I am. You’ve hidden away your knowledge of the rebel forces, but I can get you to yield to me in other ways; I can shape you into whatever I want. If I tell you to trust me, you’ll trust me. You’re just a shadow of the man you were._

Raworth smiled to himself. “That’s what your name is now: Shad.”


	2. Chapter 2

Shad sat up in his bed, looking around the small room. It was plainly furnished, lacking in anything personal. There was a closet, a desk with a workstation, a portable holovid unit, and a small table and a chair tucked into the corner opposite his bed. No holos, no other pictures, mementos or ornaments. One door led into his private bathroom, which was hardly bigger than the closet. The other door led down a short corridor to the Moff’s private quarters. Shad knew where the doors led, because Moff Raworth had shown him around and explained everything last night. He should have known anyway, because this was his home, but his memory had gone.

Shad nervously worked the bedcover into pleats between his fingers as he tried to think back. He remembered waking up in the chair of the examination room. The doctor had been taking scans of his head to find out why he’d lost so much of his memory. He’d had an accident; he’d tripped and hit his head, the doctor told him. Shad let go of the bedcover and rubbed his hand through his hair. He couldn’t feel any sore spots, which he supposed was good. From the examination room, he’d been taken to a small room with a bed, and given an injection of something to help him sleep. He'd slept for almost a whole day before being given a meal and brought back here to the Moff’s residence. Moff Raworth had been kind to him, telling him what his duties were as the moff’s own body servant. He should have known his duties of course, had known them before his accident, but the moff had told him that he’d soon get into the way of things again.

A glance at the bedside chrono told him he was late getting up. It didn’t matter today, as Moff Raworth had told him he had the morning off, to settle in again after his return from the hospital. From tomorrow onwards, he’d have to be up in good time to serve the moff, getting his clothes ready for him, serving breakfast when the droids delivered it, tidying his quarters when the moff had gone to his office. Shad was relieved to find that he could remember everything he’d been told the evening before. There was no problem with that part of his memory. Throwing back the light bedcover, he padded barefoot into the bathroom. There, Shad took a long look at himself in the mirror. Thick, dark hair, slightly unruly on top, with soft wisps that almost fell to his eyes. An attractive, rather boyish face, given character by the strong, dark brows. Hazel eyes, that looked back at him anxiously. A face that was at once familiar, and unknown.

_Who am I ? Why is there nothing personal in my room ? Do I have no family or friends ? Maybe when I get back into my routine, things will start to come back to me. I’ve nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do anyway._

After showering and shaving, Shad chose a plain outfit from the clothes in the closet. All of the clothes seemed new, which puzzled him, but they fitted well. The com unit on his desk was pre-set with two numbers. One was to call for housekeeping droids, and the other, which he pressed, connected him to the kitchen.

“Hello ?” he said, rather uncertainly. “This is Shad.”

“What ?” The male voice on the other end sounded puzzled. “Oh, yes. I got you now. You want some breakfast ?”

“Please.”

“Okay. Be about ten minutes.”

Shad thanked the voice, and cut the connection.

His meal was delivered by a droid to a door in the passage between Shad’s room and the moff’s quarters. The door hissed shut as the droid left and Shad heard the muffled clunk of a lock fastening. He was too hungry to worry much about it, and took the tray through to the table in his room. There was plenty to eat, and it was well cooked. When he’d finished, and the droid had reappeared to collect the dirty dishes, Shad went to explore the moff’s quarters.

He entered through a door in an unobtrusive corner of the moff’s living room. The first thing that caught his eye were the large windows, overlooking a rolling garden. Graceful trees swayed in the breeze, shedding leaves in autumn shades of gold, scarlet and brown. There were bushes, smothered in berries of blue and yellow, with birds fluttering from branch to branch as they feasted. Shad got up close to the window, peering from side to side. No other part of the residence was visible from his position. To his left, he could see a patio area, enclosed by a frame of climbing plants. There were no other buildings in sight, and it was almost impossible to tell where the garden ended and the surrounding countryside began.

Shad gazed at the garden for a while, then turned his attention indoors. The moff’s quarters consisted of the large living room, a bedroom and bathroom, and a small gym. Everything was well-appointed, even luxurious, but not too much so. Shad could tell that the furniture was good quality, all the soft furnishings felt good to touch, but there was nothing ostentatious. He looked with curiosity at the few holos displayed about the place, mostly showing Moff Raworth at official functions. A holovid unit that was a piece of art in itself hung on one wall, but Shad left it alone. He’d been told that the holovid and the inconspicuous workstation in here were out of bounds to him, and in any case, both needed passcodes to operate. He was allowed to use the gym though, when the moff wasn’t about. Shad looked over the equipment carefully. He could recall what the different items were used for, but frustratingly, couldn’t remember what his personal settings were for anything. He didn’t know if he should be doing thirty leg curls or sixty. With no duties to attend to for the time being, Shad set about testing his fitness.

Moff Raworth returned in the early evening. He sank into the oversized sofa with a sigh of relief.

“Fetch me a glass of Coruscant brandy,” he asked, stretching out his long, powerful legs.

Shad obeyed, remembering to serve the glass on a small tray. He’d found a file of protocol instructions on the database of his workstation, and had spent the afternoon studying it thoroughly. It seemed odd that he’d known the correct glass to serve brandy in, but hadn’t recalled the detail of serving from a tray. The gaps in his memory were strange like that. He was sure that the flowing form of the lightstand, which rather resembled a slender waterspout, was Chandrilan, but he couldn’t remember if he’d ever been there. He said nothing though; he merely served the brandy, and waited to see if there would be more orders.

Moff Raworth swirled the glass gently, and inhaled the bouquet before tasting the brandy. He savoured his drink, then leaned back into the nerf-suede cushions.

“Have you settled in again ?” he asked.

Shad nodded. “Yes, your Excellency.”

“What did you do today ?” Raworth took another sip of the brandy.

“I studied protocol and I trained in your gym.” He added the second part rather nervously.

The moff smiled. “That’s good. It’s important for you to keep in trim, Shad, just as you always have. We’ll be back in our regular routine before you know it. Now would you just let the kitchens know I’ll be dining in here tonight.”

Shad nodded to show acceptance of the order, and returned to his own room to talk to the kitchen. The moff seemed pleased with him, and that felt good. Moff Raworth was the only person he’d actually seen all day, and the contact reassured him.

_The only thing I know about myself is that I’m the moff’s personal body servant. I have to be good, and please him, or my life’s pointless. It would be very lonely here if I displeased him. He seems to like me though; that’s good._

While the moff bathed, Shad laid out fresh clothes for him, then carefully set a single place at a dining table comfortably big enough to seat four. He was initially rather nervous when it actually came to serving the food, but his careful study of the protocol file paid off. Two minor mistakes were patiently corrected by the moff, and when the meal was finished, Shad’s confidence had increased.

“Just fetch me another glass of brandy, then you can take your own meal,” Raworth said, pushing back his chair and standing. “I’ll call you when I want you.”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

Shad had time to enjoy his own dinner. It was a more basic meal than Moff Raworth’s, but tasty. He was a little surprised to find a glass of good ruby wine included, but he savoured it. It seemed as though being the moff’s personal servant had its privileges as compensation for a restricted life. Shad wondered if he would accompany the moff on any visits he made. His thoughts were interrupted by the buzzer that told him he was wanted by the moff.

On his return to the moff’s living quarters, Shad found Moff Raworth sitting on the long sofa again. The moff smiled at him, his solid face warming with the expression.

“Move that a little closer and sit down,” he ordered, indicating a large, soft cube covered with a brown, velvety fabric.

Shad put the cube where the moff indicated, almost against the moff’s legs, and sat on it. He held himself straight, wondering what the moff wanted.

“How have you been today, Shad ?” Raworth asked. “Have you been well ?”

“Yes. Your Excellency.” Shad hastily added the title.

Raworth smiled again, looking at Shad intently. “I think, when we’re alone and being informal like this, it will be simpler for you to address me as ‘sir’.”

Shad nodded. “Yes, sir.” He was a little puzzled by the way the moff was looking at him, studying him as though he were a sculpture almost.

Moff Raworth leaned forward, closing the distance between them to a couple of feet.

“I’m glad to have you back here, Shad. You help me to relax.”

To Shad’s surprise, the moff reached out and caressed his cheek. He sat very still as Raworth’s large hand trailed gently down his neck and across the sensitive skin of his throat. His pulse rate jumped, a mixture of fear and sexual response to the caress. The moff’s hand slid to the back of his neck and pulled him forward, bringing his face close for a kiss. Part of Shad wanted to pull away in panic. He hadn’t remotely considered that he might have a sexual relationship with the moff, didn’t even remember if he had had a preference for men.

The moff’s firm kiss showed that he had no doubts over Shad’s sexuality. Bewildered by the turn of events, all Shad could think of was that it was his job to please the moff. He opened his mouth in response to the kiss, yielding to the other man’s demands. The moff kissed harder, his free hand sliding over Shad’s torso. When he broke the kiss, Shad found himself breathless, his body tingling. He was still a little apprehensive but the sensations were good.

“You remember how much you like this ?” the moff said gently, his mouth close to Shad’s ear.

“I…” Shad closed his eyes as the moff kissed his neck.

“Trust me like you used to, Shad. Give yourself to me.”

Shad obeyed. He let the moff touch and caress him and closed his mind to any worry. Instead, he allowed himself to be roused, following the moff into the bedroom when asked, and stripping off his clothes. For all his bulk, Moff Raworth was gentle with him. Shad almost cried out when the moff entered him, caught between pleasure and pain. The moff paused, kissing his neck and fondling his penis until his body began to succumb to the sensations. Then the moff began thrusting deep into him, taking his own pleasure from Shad’s body. Shad responded, oblivious to all feelings other than his need to reach orgasm. He climaxed first, muscles tightening around the moff’s penis in a way that brought a grunt of pleasure. The moff’s grip tightened, a rancor-hug that held Shad’s slender body against his own bulk, as he thrust harder and faster. Shad lay limply in the moff’s hold, his body rocking to the fierce movements until the moff came.

Afterwards, Moff Raworth was gentle again. They lay on the wide bed together, the moff’s powerful arms still around Shad’s body. Shad felt secure, as though he were being cradled. The skin to skin contact was reassuring after the loneliness of his day. He had pleased the moff, and he felt special, someone who saw the moff as no other did. Someone the moff could relax with.

At length, the moff stirred, kissing Shad’s shoulder.

“Are you all right ?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Shad answered. “Did I please you ?”

The moff chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. “Yes, Shad. I’m very pleased.” He relaxed his hold. “You’d better clear up and return to your own room. I’ll see you again first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shad obeyed.

Days became weeks, and Moff Raworth could see no sign that Wedge Antilles was recovering his memory. The pilot was quiet, obedient and anxious to please. Raworth enjoyed the luxury of having a servant to tend to him and the secret of Shad’s identity added a touch of excitement. He got a thrill from wondering if one day he would see the intelligence and determination return to Shad’s soft eyes. Raworth revelled in the sense of power he got from seeing the notorious Rogue Leader obeying his every command.

What he enjoyed most of all was his sexual control over Shad. The moff set about moulding a man who had once been a stubborn pilot into his personal sex slave. He encouraged Shad to work out in the gym, building muscle definition and making his body even more of a pleasure for Raworth to enjoy. He was certain that Wedge Antilles had never slept with a man and got immense satisfaction from twisting his nature. Raworth taught Shad how best to use his hands and mouth on another man, until Shad became expert at giving oral pleasure. He satisfied himself in Shad’s body, relishing the feeling of resistance overcome as Shad yielded to him, day after day.

It was a pleasure that Moff Raworth could replay and enjoy at other times. Part of the hurried preparations for Shad’s arrival had included miniature holo-cameras hidden around the moff’s quarters. He controlled when they were active, and everything they recorded was sent via a secure link to his office elsewhere in the official residence. Through the cameras, and through links to Shad’s workstation, Moff Raworth had a good idea of how Shad usually spent his days. The moff had seen to it that Shad’s contact with the galaxy beyond his rooms was very limited. His holovid only received a few channels; some children’s networks, local soap operas, sports, non-political documentaries and comedies. His workstation access was similarly filtered: Shad would see or hear nothing likely to reawaken his memory. Raworth wondered if Shad might try to get around the limitations set, but he seemed to lack curiosity, simply accepting what was given. Shad played the simple games supplied on his workstation, displaying the lightning reflexes and ability to focus that had helped make him such an outstanding combat pilot. There were no combat games for him though; he played fun games set on imaginary worlds.

The cameras also recorded less innocent pastimes. Moff Raworth sometimes filmed his sexual activities with Shad and watched them to savour his domination over his servant. There was always a slight hesitancy in Shad’s face and eyes, before he obeyed his master’s desires. Sometimes the moff simply used him to satisfy himself. Other times, he took care to see that Shad was satisfied too. Raworth particularly enjoyed watching those times again; he loved to see Shad’s reserve give way to eager need, to hear Shad beg his master for release. Raworth loved to watch Wedge Antilles plead for sexual satisfaction from an Imperial moff.

Moff Raworth was careful to keep his holos of Shad secure, but the desire to show off his trophy grew. The records of Wedge Antilles’ capture and interrogation had been sealed away. If Isard found out that the pilot was still alive, she would most likely demand for him to be handed over to her, and Raworth didn’t want to lose him just yet. He would give Antilles to Isard only if he regained his memory, claiming that he’d kept Antilles securely hidden during prolonged treatment for his breakdown. If Antilles didn’t recover, and Raworth grew tired of Shad, the former pilot would be quickly and quietly put to death. He couldn’t risk Shad coming under someone else’s control.

For the time being though, Raworth wanted to show off the man he’d moulded to suit his own desires. He selected two trusted friends, and invited them to a meal in his own private quarters. Walmein was the Chief of Internal Security planetside, a lean man alive with nervous energy. Dreja was the Public Prosecutor, a comfortable-looking man with a mild, doughy face. Neither man had an active role in the fight against the rebellion and if they knew of Wedge Antilles at all, it was unlikely that they knew of his disappearance. Raworth’s Intelligence units reported that the rebels had hushed up the loss of their X-wing hero.

_If you’d died in combat, you’d have been celebrated as a martyr_ , Raworth thought, watching Shad as he served the main course. _Having you kidnapped from under their noses is too embarrassing to publicize. Maybe they hope to get you back one day. How much would it hurt your friends to see what you’ve become, my playtoy ?_

Raworth caught the way his friends looked at Shad as the young man moved around the table, leaning close to pour wine or place dishes in front of them. The moff himself had picked the clothes he wanted his servant to wear. Tight-fitting black trousers that showed off Shad’s firm, sweet butt, and a sleeveless top of dark brown with a purple bloom to it, that revealed toned arms. Dreja studied Shad quite openly, his eyes roving the young man’s body. Walmein was more subtle, taking quick glances, a nervous lick of his lips perhaps betraying his thoughts. Raworth enjoyed their admiration of his living trophy. Shad seemed oblivious to the attention he was drawing, his being concentrated on the careful serving of the meal.

When dinner was finished, Raworth and his guests moved to the lounge part of the room. Shad served drinks, then lowered the lighting over the dining table and quietly tidied up. Raworth sipped his brandy and talked with his friends. He kept the conversation light, discussing a recent concert and a documentary about one of Coruscant’s greatest bio-artists. As he talked, he observed Dreja’s glances to where Shad was busy. When Shad was done, Raworth beckoned him over, and asked him to replenish the drinks. Shad nodded and went to fetch the decanter of brandy.

Dreja leaned closer to the moff and quietly asked. “Where did you find him ?”

Raworth smiled, his narrow eyes bright with amusement. “I can’t divulge that, I’m afraid.”

“A pity,” Dreja replied.

Shad had returned with the brandy, offering it first to Walmein, who lounged in a large chair facing the sofa.

“Dreja, are you coveting my body servant ?” Raworth asked.

Dreja smiled, his eyes almost disappearing into the folds of his doughy face. “He isn’t dressed like that for his own comfort,” he remarked. “You’ve been showing him off to us all evening.”

Shad was facing them now. He glanced uncertainly at the moff, still holding the brandy decanter.

“You think he looks good ?” Raworth asked, glancing at both his guests.

Both men nodded, Walmein in a fast, jerky action.

“He performs as well as he looks,” Raworth said, pride tingeing his words. “Would you like a demonstration ?”

Dreja made a sound of delight. He gazed up at Shad with eager anticipation.

“Shad,” Raworth said calmly. “Show Dreja how good you are with your mouth.”

Shad stared at him, mute appeal in his eyes. Raworth stared back until Shad dropped his gaze. Shad stepped closer to Dreja, then suddenly remembered he was still clutching the decanter. He set it down on a low table, and returned to stand in front of Dreja. Dreja was lying back on the sofa beside Raworth. He opened his legs, making room for Shad to get closer. Slowly, Shad knelt, and ran his hands up the inside of Dreja’s thighs to his groin. Dreja’s breathing grew heavier as Shad deftly unfastened his trousers and reached inside. He quickly became erect under Shad’s handling. Shad lowered his head, his mouth opening, and Dreja gasped aloud with pleasure.

Walmein was perched on the edge of his chair, every line of his lean body tense with anticipation. Raworth let Shad pleasure Dreja a little longer, then ordered him to stop. Raworth looked at his trembling, breathless guest, then at his servant, still kneeling between Dreja’s legs.

“Good work, Shad.”

Pleasure touched Shad’s face at the praise.

“Now, you are to please my guests in whatever way they wish,” Raworth continued. “Start by removing your clothes.”

Again, there was that brief hesitation before Shad obeyed. He took off his clothes, revealing his slender, toned body to Raworth’s friends. While Dreja got undressed, Shad obediently roused Walmein to hardness with his mouth. Then as Walmein held Shad belly down over the brown velvet cube, his cock in Shad’s mouth, Dreja thrust himself into Shad’s arse.

Raworth watched them take turns to fuck Shad, his own pleasure fuelled by a sense of triumph. _Your will is my will, Antilles, as I promised it would be. You’ve given your mind and body to me, and tonight you’re letting two strangers fuck you, because I want it. You don’t make a sound of protest, you don’t struggle, but this close, I can see the misery in your eyes. There, does my touch really make it better ? I touch your face gently as Walmein thrusts into your arse, and your eyes light up. You know I’m pleased with you, and that’s enough. Poor Shad will never truly understand why his obedience pleases me so much. He doesn’t know how badly broken he is._

Shad lay curled up in his bed, unable to sleep. His body ached from being used by Moff Raworth’s guests, and even though he’d showered before climbing into bed, he still felt dirty. He didn’t know whether to feel betrayed or honoured by his master’s actions that evening. The moff had spoken of him with pride, had offered him to his guests as a precious object on loan for a short time only. Shad knew he’d pleased the two men, and that in turn had pleased the moff.

What mostly troubled Shad was the thought that having pleased Raworth once in this way, he’d be asked to do it again. He pressed his face against the pillow, trying to blot out the memory of strangers’ hands on his body, a penis pushed into his mouth, the smell of semen that still seemed to linger on his body. There had been a brief pleasure in knowing that he was desirable, attractive. The pleasure had wilted under the reality of letting strangers do as they wished with his body. Shad was angry that his master had handed him over for others to use. He was frightened that Moff Raworth didn’t really care much about him. Tears dampened his eyelashes as he clung to the memory of that gentle caress, the touch to his cheek.

_He does care ! He does ! What more could I have done to please you, master ? Please don’t ask me to do that again. I like to please you, to have you hold me safely afterwards, to feel your breath against my skin. How could you give me to your friends like you’d offer them the use of a prized airspeeder ? The airspeeder doesn’t care who flies it ! It doesn’t have feelings but I do. I’m a person, not an object. I need you to know that, to acknowledge me as a person. All I really know about myself is that I’m your body servant. If I can’t be that, I’m no one. So I’ll do whatever you ask me to, even letting your guests line up to fuck me if that pleases you. I have no choice._

Shad eventually slept, only to dream of fire. Flames chased though his dream as he ran, searching for someone he’d lost. He screamed frantically for them, unable to help as the fire surged all around him, blocking his path. It was necessary to detach his rooms from the moff’s quarters, but he couldn’t find the lancing charge. Gravity failed and Shad was floating among the flames and smoke as the room spiralled towards the sun.

He woke, sobbing, and didn’t sleep again that night.

Moff Raworth had given him the morning off. Shad stayed huddled in his bed until his chrono told him the moff would have left for his office. When he got up, he took a long shower, scrubbing himself repeatedly. He didn’t have much appetite for his breakfast, and returned a largely uneaten meal to the service droid. As the droid left, the door slid shut and the lock clicked into place.

Shad had heard the muffled sound so often he’d almost stopped noticing it. Today though, he stared anxiously at the door.

_What if there’s a fire ? How do I get out ?_

He’d never considered his safety before. Shad pressed the door control, but as he’d expected, the door stayed shut. He hurried into the moff’s quarters and went to the door there. On this side, the door had a simple lock/unlock pad. Shad tried the unlock key, but the door didn’t move. He tried the key again, then both keys in frantic, random stabs. Nothing worked. Shad fought down a surge of panic. After all, he wasn’t in any immediate danger. He was just jumpy after the bad dream.

Leaving the door, he moved to the large windows and looked out. As usual, the gardens were deserted aside from a solitary droid, currently pruning a leafless shrub. Only rarely had Shad seen anyone using the splendid gardens. Neither birds, droids or guests had ever noticed him watching, so Shad had concluded that the windows were made of one-way glassteel. He pressed one hand against the clear material, wondering how strong it was. Would he be able to break it if necessary ? If it really was glassteel, and not just glass, he didn’t have a chance. Shad sighed and turned away. It was going to be a long day until Moff Raworth returned.

When the moff did get back, Shad barely gave him time to remove his coat before asking how he was supposed to get out in case of fire. Raworth stared at him for a moment, then his face softened.

“Has this been worrying you long, Shad ? Why are you suddenly asking ?”

“Well, I…” Shad trailed off and shook his head. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to tell the moff about his dream.

Moff Raworth gently grasped Shad’s chin with his strong fingers and forced the young man to look straight at him. “Tell me, Shad. I’m sure you have a reason for asking now.”

“I dreamed about fire last night,” Shad confessed softly. “I was trapped, or someone was. It’s not very clear now.” The dream was clearer to him than he wanted to admit and he trembled, wondering if his master would know he was lying.

The moff’s eyes searched his face keenly, then he was released.

“You’ve no need to worry, Shad. There are smoke and heat detectors throughout the building, including these rooms. If there’s any danger in this block, all doors unlock automatically. Your safety is important; you’re very valuable to me.” Raworth smiled suddenly. “Now, I’ve been thinking that I need to reassess my clothes; what to keep for the winter and what to discard. I want you to help me sort them, Shad.”

With that, he patted Shad on the shoulder, and pushed him gently in the direction of the bedroom. Shad’s face lit up in a rare smile, born of knowing that his master did need him. He was content.

The attack was sudden and well-planned, launched against several targets simultaneously. X-wings and Y-wings pounded the military bases, assault shuttles dropped troops on the government buildings and at the moff’s official residence. There, the armoured troops spread out rapidly, rounding up the handful of security men and the staff, as specialists raided the moff’s databanks.

The alarmed staff were huddled together in the grand hall, guarded by half a dozen troops. A tall, red-skinned Devaronian efficiently commanded the whole operation.

“Gamma squad report the north block clear.”

“Copy.” Kapp Dendo relaxed slightly. Intelligence on Moff Raworth’s residence had been sketchy; the prediction of low resistance had been accurate, so Dendo was hoping that the moff’s personal files would be as informative as suggested. Raworth was known to be one of Isard’s strongest supporters, and the New Republic Military Command wanted to see how she’d react to this attack on Heppert Sector.

With the residence secured, there wasn’t much for Dendo to do except wait while the techs got what they could from the moff’s computers. Dendo glanced at the dozen or so members of staff, idly wondering if any of them were more than the kitchen staff and admin staff they seemed to be. He was about to dismiss the staff from his mind, when something made him look at them again. Something, someone, had caught his eye in passing.

He moved closer, looking at each of the humans in turn. One or two stared boldly back, but most of them reacted uneasily. Dendo believed himself to be a rather handsome specimen of a Devaronion male, but he knew that some humans, especially those from Imperial worlds, found his pointed teeth and horns rather alarming. He almost missed the dark-haired man, half-hidden at the back of the group behind a taller male. It was a face he knew, but this place was so out of context, it took him a few moments to realize who it was. The human flinched as Dendo showed his teeth in a wide smile.

“Wedge !”

There was no look of recognition on the human’s face, only panic. Dendo frowned, then realized this would hardly be reassuring either. He beckoned to the dark-haired man.

“You. Come out here where I can see you.”

Slowly, the human moved out from behind the others. Dendo stared at him, puzzled. He’d got pretty good at identifying individual humans over the years, and he’d worked closely with Wedge Antilles on several occasions. This human had longer hair than Dendo remembered, but he was certain that this was the missing X-wing pilot. The height and build were right, the age, so far as Dendo could tell, and the shape of the face. So why was this human looking at him like he was something from a nightmare ? Dendo cocked his head to one side.

“What’s your name ?”

“Sh…Shad.” The answer was barely louder than a whisper.

“What are you doing here at the moff’s residence ?”

“I’m his body servant.”

Dendo scratched his head. “How long have you been here ?”

“I…I don’t know.”

One of the other staff members, an older human male, moved restlessly, glancing across at them. Dendo caught his eye.

“Do you know how long Shad’s been here ?” Dendo asked him.

“About three months now,” the man declared.

Shad shook his head. “I’ve been with the moff longer than that. I had an accident; I can’t remember anything that happened before it. When I was better, Moff Raworth brought me back here to look after him again.”

This time it was the older man who disagreed, speaking directly to Dendo. “The moff had him brought here three months back, and kept him locked up in his private quarters. The moff didn’t have a personal…servant…before.”

Some of the other humans were nodding. Most of them were now staring at Shad, curious about him.

Shad’s face was full of distress. “My master told me I was here before my accident !”

Dendo was thinking about what to do. It was a little over three months since Wedge Antilles had gone missing, which fitted with the timing given by the older man. The accident ‘Shad’ spoke of could have been an injury sustained during capture or through interrogation. Maybe this moff had some kind of memory wiping facility. If Shad was Wedge, as Dendo felt increasingly certain he was, then it was a mystery why Moff Raworth had kept him as a servant in his own quarters. Perhaps there would be an answer in the moff’s private files. Dendo beckoned to one of his troops, a human female.

“Nastelle, I want you to accompany this man to the shuttle and wait there with him. We’re taking him back to the fleet with us.”

Nastelle reached out a hand to Shad, inviting him to go with her. He didn’t move, instead looking back and forth between the trooper and Dendo.

“Why are you taking me away ? I live here. My master needs me.”

Shad’s plea made Dendo want to cry out and ask what the moff had done to him. Instead, he made the effort to answer quietly, aware of how upset Shad was.

“Moff Raworth isn’t in charge around here any more,” he said. “He won’t be coming back here.”

Shad seemed to crumple, as though his world had shattered around him. Nastelle moved up and put an arm round his shoulders.

“Come with me, Shad,” she said gently. “We’ll look after you.”

Shad didn’t seem to have the strength to protest any longer. He let Nastelle lead him away. Dendo watched them go, saddened and angry.


	3. Chapter 3

Shad gazed at the holocube he was holding. It was set to cycle slowly through a series of still holos, each image fading out to be replaced by the next. He saw himself in several pictures, but not a self he knew. The man in the holos, usually wearing a garish orange flight suit, looked confident, relaxed, self-possessed. Most of the pictures were of celebrations, formal and informal. Here was Wedge Antilles, with his friends and comrades, at the moments important enough for him to keep these holos as reminders. Yet Shad felt as though he was looking at the life of a stranger.

Medical tests had initially confirmed that Shad was indeed this Wedge Antilles, then the New Republic’s techs had gone through Moff Raworth’s files and had found the records of his interrogation and breakdown. It seemed that everything that Moff Raworth had told him had been a lie. It was possible that these people were the liars, but Shad found it unlikely. Moff Raworth had kept him locked away, out of touch with the galaxy, and had, Shad reluctantly admitted to himself, taken advantage of him in every way possible. It hurt to know how his trust had been abused.

The New Republic people treated him in quite a different way. They’d brought him here to Crieffs Base and given him quarters near the psychiatric medcentre. He was free to go almost anywhere he liked on the base; he could visit the bar, the canteen, the gym and spa, the simulator room, the rec room or even the hangars. His workstation had full holonet access and he could watch any channels he liked on the holoproj. Wedge Antilles’ belongings had been given to him, and although nothing jogged his memory, it was clear that the clothes, datachips, washkit, holos and other memorabilia represented a real person. Shad had gazed at the medals in awe, wondering what kind of person he’d been.

His musings were interrupted by a knock on his door. Shad started, then put the holocube on his desk and went to answer the door. It slid briskly aside to reveal a dark-haired man, no taller than himself but broader in the shoulders. The stranger’s youthful face lit up in a bright smile.

“Wedge ! Am I glad to see you again !”

The stranger swept him into a backslapping hug before Shad had time to realize what was happening. Shad panicked for a moment, his body tensing, then his brain caught up with his reflexes. This man was in many of the holos stored on the cube: this was one of his friends. Shad managed to relax just before the stranger released him. The newcomer stepped back, disappointment clear on his face as he looked at Shad.

“Wedge ? You don’t remember me ? I thought I was unforgettable,” he added, forcing a smile.

“It’s J…Janson, isn’t it ?” Shad shook his head as Janson started to smile again. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you; I don’t remember _knowing_ you. But I’ve got holos, Wedge’s holos, and I’ve been told who the people in them are.”

“Oh.” Janson seemed to be at a loss.

Shad felt embarrassed, sorry to have disappointed someone who seemed to care about him. He moved back and gestured into the room.

“Please, come in.”

“Thanks.” Janson paused, and smiled. “I’ve got a better idea. There’s got to be a bar round here somewhere. Let’s go have a drink while we talk.”

“Okay.” Shad’s stomach had tensed up, but he knew that this was something he needed to do.

As they walked through the residential block, Janson told him that he’d just arrived on Crieffs, being on leave from his work training new pilots.

“Me and Hobbie were so relieved when we were told that you’d been found. First you went missing, then Tycho went off on some secret mission, and we still don’t know where he is. We needed some good news, and Kapp finding you was it. Of course we wanted to come and see you as soon as possible, and luckily the doctors think it’s a good idea for you to meet people you used to know. General Salm said he could only spare one of us at a time though, so Hobbie and I tossed a cred for it.” Janson grinned. “Someday, Hobbie will learn better than to let me be the one tossing the cred.”

Shad couldn’t help but smile at Janson’s mischievous grin. He identified the names ‘Hobbie’ and ‘Tycho’ with faces in the holos he’d been looking at, but he had no sense of the people who had those names.

Janson continued talking as they walked, amusing Shad with stories of his escapades with the new pilots, and of life on Folor Base. As they left the residential block, and headed across to the social centre, Shad laughed less, his attention wandering as his pace slowed. Janson halted, studied him for a moment, and quietly asked.

“What’s wrong ?”

Shad managed a faint smile. “When I was with Moff Raworth, I was confined just to his quarters and mine. Not being able to remember anything before arriving there, not even knowing what the rest of the building was like, that was frightening. I felt safe in our rooms. The longer I stayed in there, the more frightened I was of what lay outside. It was all unknown.” He paused and took a slow breath to calm himself. “I’m still getting used to coping with the outside world again.”

Janson looked sympathetic. “You feel vulnerable away from your room here ?”

Shad nodded.

“We could go back there if you like ?” Janson suggested.

“No. I can’t get into the habit of avoiding everything that worries me. I’m all right once I’ve been to a place a few times. It’s just that first step of entering the unknown.”

“This is going to take some getting used to,” Janson remarked. “You are Wedge, but you’re not. Wedge was…is…pretty self-reliant and confident. I’ve seen him, you, give a briefing to a roomful of pilots then lead them into battle. Which you’re not capable of doing at the moment. But the way you just spoke about facing up to your fear, that sounded like the Wedge I know…knew. Blast it ! I don’t even know what tense to use, you walking paradox !”

Shad couldn’t help laughing at Janson’s indignant expression. “For the time being, call me Shad. You knew Wedge before, you know Shad now.”

“I can make you laugh, whoever you are.” Janson’s expression was half proud, half indignant. He became more serious. “Sometimes I might forget who I’m talking to. If I say something like ‘But don’t you remember when..?’, it’s because I’m stupid, not because I’m trying to hurt or offend you.”

Shad nodded. “I’ll remember. There’s nothing wrong with my short-term memory.”

Janson grinned, and flung his around Shad’s shoulder. “Let’s go get those drinks.”

At this time of the afternoon, the bar was quiet. With Janson’s cheerful company, Shad found it less intimidating than he would have if he’d ventured here on his own. As they settled in a booth near the window, a serving droid appeared. It was a rather curious-looking object, apparently cobbled together from a collection of spare parts, and most of those well-used. The main body was an R2 unit painted yellow and black, with a tray attached to the top of its head, and a vocalizer unit welded to the barrel.

“Preferred drinks, gentlebeings ?” Its voice was blatantly mechanical.

“My treat,” Janson declared. “Lum for me and Corellian whiskey…wait.” He turned to Shad. “I’m sorry; I was ordering what Wedge likes.”

“Whiskey sounds fine,” Shad told him.

“Corellian whiskey, Whyren’s Reserve if you’ve got it,” Janson told the droid.

“Order accepted,” it intoned, and whirred away.

Shad frowned. “Isn’t Whyren’s Reserve expensive ?”

Janson put on an exasperated expression. “You never were a cheap date.”

The phrase reminded Shad of one of the questions that had been haunting him. _Did Wedge Antilles prefer men or women ? Did Moff Raworth turn me into something I’m not ?I’m sure Janson will know about Wedge_. He cleared his throat.

“Um, speaking of dates, was I seeing anyone when I was captured ?”

Janson shook his head. “You split up with Reina, Reina Falour, a month or so before you went off on your PR tour.”

_That sounds like a woman’s name_. “What happened ?” Shad asked.

“Well, she’s a gorgeous woman, and you two certainly had the hots for one another. Not that you’re the sort to tell tales, but you always had a big grin on your face the morning after a date. Anyway, Reina has a wonderful figure, but she’s rather too obsessed with keeping it that way,” Janson confided, leaning over the table. “She always skipped lunch to exercise, and her idea of a date was to go swimming, or to the gym or for a run. Evenings, she liked to go out and socialize, preferably dancing. You’d be tired and stressed, wanting a quiet night in together, and she’d want to go out dancing. You took her out to a nice restaurant once, and she fussed about the salad dressing and the sauce and wouldn’t eat a dessert. It lasted about three months before you’d had enough.”

“I see. Thanks.”

The droid returned with their drinks. Shad took his glass, as Janson swiped his credcard through the droid’s payslot, and slowly inhaled the warm, woody scent of the whiskey. Taking a sip, he savoured the taste before swallowing. Catching Janson’s eyes, he said.

“Some things haven’t changed. I like this, thank you.”

Janson lifted his own glass in a salute, which Shad returned. After taking another drink, Shad leaned back in his seat. He realized that he was enjoying Janson’s company.

“Thank you for coming to visit me,” he said.

“You’d have done the same,” Janson replied.

Shad believed him. For the first time, he began to get a real sense of what he’d lost when he’d lost his identity as Wedge Antilles. Not just a name and a rank and medals, but friendship and loyalty. A sense of belonging somewhere. Shad became aware that Janson was watching him, and raised a smile.

“You look better than I expected,” Janson remarked. “Healthier, I mean.”

“The Imps looked after me physically, at least,” Shad replied.

Janson nodded. “I’m going to risk being rude and ask what the doctors are doing to help you.”

Shad took another sip of his whiskey. “I’m under the care of one of the psychiatrists here, Dr Jansz. She explained to me about dissociative amnesia, how it’s a defence mechanism. I used it to escape the interrogation, and to protect the knowledge they wanted from me, by blocking it off. Dr Jansz has also been helping me cope with things like being scared of new people and places.”

“What about the amnesia though ? Can they cure it ? Will it cure itself ?”

“Dr Jansz says that being back in something like my old life will help,” Shad explained. “I’ve got my old clothes, holos and so on; I’ve been studying the rebellion and learning about my past life. And meeting an old friend,” he added, smiling.

“Old ! I’m a year younger than you,” Janson said indignantly.

Shad gave him a patient look. “Hopefully something will start to bring the memories back.”

Janson looked thoughtfully at his glass of lum. “And if it doesn’t ?”

“Then Dr Jansz is going to try hypnotherapy. Apparently that’s often successful in helping with dissociative amnesia.”

“You’re very difficult to hypnotize, Wedge…Shad,” Janson said. “There was a woman in Rogue Squadron, Lilia Torin, who used to hypnotize volunteers as a sort of party trick. She tried on you a couple of times, but you wouldn’t go under. Still, a professional should have a much better chance,” he added confidently.

“Maybe Shad’s easier to hypnotise than Wedge,” Shad commented.

Janson nodded. “That could be.” He took another mouthful of lum and gazed around the bar. “It’s good to have some unexpected leave. So, Shad; what’s there to do round here ?”

The three days of Janson’s leave were spent exploring the base together. With Janson as company, Shad visited new places and found his self-confidence increasing. Janson treated everything as an adventure, looking for fun in new situations and laughing at their minor misfortunes. His attitude was infectious and Shad gradually became less self-conscious, and relaxed more. Shad was sorry when Janson’s leave ended and the pilot had to return to duty.

The visit was on his mind the next day during his appointment with Dr Jansz.

“You were smiling when you arrived today,” Dr Jansz commented. “I haven’t seen you smiling much before. Tell me about Lt. Janson’s visit.”

Shad talked about the visit while Dr Jansz listened carefully. Her ability to really concentrate on her patients was one of the things Shad liked about his doctor. It was as reassuring as her plump figure and motherly air. She was dark-skinned and all comfortable curves from her round cheeks to her soft fingers. When he’d finished talking, she asked.

“Do you feel you learned more about who you were – about yourself as Wedge ?”

Shad nodded slowly. “Janson told me a lot about what I’d done, what I liked to eat, that kind of thing.” As he paused, she smiled encouragingly. “There was the way he talked about Wedge too. Janson really cared about him. And I think he respected him a lot too,” Shad went on. “Just things he said now and again, like saying that General Crespin didn’t know half as much about starfighter tactics as Wedge did, and how he and Hobbie like to use sims based on missions Wedge commanded for their trainees.”

“How do you feel about that ?” Dr Jansz asked.

Shad knotted his hands together. “It’s strange to think of people looking up to me, respecting me. Wedge earned all of it, the rank, the medals. It’s hard to believe he could break down and turn into me.”

“It happened under extreme circumstances,” Dr Jansz reminded him gently. “And in a way, you were still doing your duty. The amnesia protected the knowledge that the Imperials wanted from you. And ‘Shad’ may be a stronger character than you realize. Moff Raworth took advantage of your impressionable state to dominate you.”

_To dominate me, and twist me_ , Shad thought. He looked away from his doctor, staring at a holo of a waterfall instead. “I learned something else from Janson,” he said quietly. “Wedge Antilles was heterosexual.”

He didn’t need to explain more. The New Republic techs had found Moff Raworth’s recordings of his sexual activities with his body servant. Shad had been told about them, and knew that Dr Jansz had been given access to them. “What about Shad ?” the doctor asked. “You’re free to choose your sexuality now you’re away from the moff; do you know which gender you prefer ?”

Shad shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the holo.

“Do you believe that homosexual relationships are wrong ?”

“No,” he answered. “I mean, not for people who are…that way, who always have been. But Wedge isn’t that way.”

“Sexuality often isn’t as fixed as many people think,” Dr Jansz said. “Many individuals experiment for a while, or like something different now and again. Others are truly bisexual. Some fantasize but never take it any further. Janson may believe Wedge to be firmly heterosexual, but that doesn’t make it true.”

Shad frowned. “But how will Wedge’s friends act if they know about me and Moff Raworth ? They may not care what the moff did with other men, but Wedge ? They respect him so much; they don’t expect him to be letting an Imperial moff fuck him !”

“It was beyond your control, Shad,” the doctor said gently. She leaned closer and put her hand over his. “You were manipulated by the moff when you were vulnerable. He abused you. No one can blame you for that.”

Shad knew that Dr Jansz was right, that the moff had taken advantage of his ignorance about himself. _But it’s not that simple. I believed the moff when he said we’d slept together before, because I didn’t remember otherwise. I had no reason not to believe him. But that doesn’t explain why my body responded to him. Why I got hard when he stroked me. The times I begged him to make me come._

_Wedge would hate to know what he became when he was Shad_.

Shad couldn’t find a way of expressing those thoughts to Dr Jansz, so he sat in a miserable silence.

Dr Jansz spoke again. “Don’t forget that none of Wedge’s friends know about what happened between Shad and Moff Raworth, unless you choose to tell them. The official story is that you were held prisoner at his residence. A few, like Lt. Janson, know that he made you his servant. Those in the New Republic who know the full truth will never divulge it, and Moff Raworth was killed in the assault, so he can’t tell. You’re worrying unnecessarily, Shad.”

Shad wished he could believe her, but he didn’t believe that any secret would remain so for ever. _Sooner or later Janson, and Wedge’s other friends, will find out what Moff Raworth turned their friend into. Their faith in him would be shattered. Shad was weak and naive; people feel sorry for what happened to him. Wedge Antilles is a hero, strong, brave. Heroes don’t behave like Shad did_.

Shad wished he didn’t feel as though he’d betrayed Wedge Antilles.

Janson’s brief visit and departure made Shad all too aware of how empty his life was. He had no friends on the base and nothing specific to do with his time. He didn’t care much for working out in the gym – it reminded him too much of the training he did to please the moff. Instead, he spent time in the swimming pool. The downside to swimming was that he didn’t know whether he preferred looking at the women in their swimsuits, or the men. He admitted as much to Dr Jansz, adding that he still felt as though he was drifting aimlessly, now he didn’t have Moff Raworth making his decisions for him.

Dr Jansz suggested a part-time job, somewhere on Crieffs Base. Even the process of choosing something, and working out what skills he had to offer, gave Shad some sense of purpose. He found himself attracted to the vehicle hangars; the smell of the lubricants and fuel, and the whine of repulsor engines was somehow familiar and comforting. After proving his mechanical abilities, Shad began helping out as a vehicle technician.

While he was working, he was able to forget that he’d once been called Wedge Antilles. When Shad was concentrating on stripping out components, he wasn’t feeling guilty for letting Moff Raworth seduce him. Although the chief technician knew about his past, the other techs accepted him simply as Shad. As the days passed, he settled into his new identity as a vehicle tech. The holocube with pictures of Wedge’s life was switched off; Wedge’s flightsuit, helmet and medals were hidden at the back of his closet.

Even while he felt himself developing as Shad, he wasn’t allowed to completely forget that he was also Wedge. He visited Dr Jansz every week, and he had to cope with the visitors who came to see Wedge. The first was Mirax Terrik. She was delighted to see him, and Shad tried to respond to her enthusiasm. Mirax had brought more family and childhood holos but Shad only saw strangers. As she talked about their past, Shad grew more uncomfortable. He liked Mirax, he liked her straightforward nature and her warmth, but he didn’t want to hear about Wedge’s family and childhood. Mirax was too smart for him to fool. Sorrow gradually replaced the sparkle in her brown eyes as she looked at him. Shad felt relieved, but guilty when she said she had to leave. As she said her farewell, Shad hugged her and whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

Mirax blinked back tears and caressed his face. “I’m sorry too. You’re a nice person, Shad, but you’re not my big brother. I…” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and hurried away.

A few days after Mirax’s visit, Hobbie Klivian arrived on leave. Again, Shad was greeted with a warmth and enthusiasm he couldn’t respond to. He tried to distract Hobbie by visiting bars and asking about Hobbie’s activities. Every time Hobbie started to talk about Wedge, Shad did his best to change the subject. Hobbie was disappointed and Shad grew irritable. Eventually, he lost his temper and snapped.

“I’m not Wedge; I’m _Shad_ !”

The hurt expression on Hobbie’s mournful face haunted him for days.


	4. Chapter 4

The change in climate would have told Princess Leia where she was even if she’d been blind and deaf. Most of the base was kept at the warm, dry conditions that humans and most mammalian species preferred, but the air in Admiral Ackbar’s office was cooler and humid. In spite of the conditions, Leia liked Ackbar’s office, decorated in calming blues and greens, and with bright fish swimming in a globe of water that hung in mid-air between two repulsors. She also liked and admired the Mon Calamari admiral who was sitting behind the curved desk.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything urgent,” Leia said, seeing his display screen lit up. “I was hoping you could spare a few minutes to discuss the Coruscant agenda.”

Ackbar opened his mouth in a Mon Cal smile, and gestured to a seat.

“You timing is fortuitous, Councillor,” he said, in his gravely voice. “I will be pleased to discuss Coruscant, but I have just received a report that I know you will be interested in.” He turned his display so that Leia could see it too. “It is the latest report from Dr Jansz concerning Commander Antilles.”

“Wedge ! Oh, yes, I want to know how he is.”

Ackbar pressed a button and Dr Jansz’s report started.

As she watched the holo-recording, Leia’s sense of optimism faded. Wedge seemed no closer to recovering his memory, in spite of the visits from his friends. Dr Jansz’s concern was clear, even through her professional tone.

“I felt it was time to try hypnotherapy, which can often be of value in treating cases of dissociative amnesia. Under hypnosis, the patient has access to memories which are not available to the conscious mind,” Dr Jansz explained. “The first attempts at hypnotising Commander Antilles failed; approximately one in ten of the human population cannot be hypnotised. I suggested that in the next session, a drug be used to make the Commander more susceptible to hypnotic influence. He agreed, but he was evidently somewhat reluctant to make the attempt.

At the second session, I gave Commander Antilles a dose of egohexadride, which affects the conscious will and makes the patient more suggestible. I then attempted a standard hypnosis. Unfortunately, this proved even less successful than before. Commander Antilles was evidently apprehensive about the hypnosis, and the egohexadride inhibited his ability to control his anxiety. I believe that the situation unconsciously reminded him of his interrogation, with a drug being used to enable one person to exert their will over his. He became distressed, and I was forced to stop the attempt at hypnosis, and administered a mild sedative.

Hypnotherapy is clearly an unsuitable technique in this case. Even if Commander Antilles were willing to try again, I feel there is an unacceptable level of risk to his mental status. The ‘Shad’ personality is currently quite stable and capable of functioning normally within society. As the hypnotherapy essentially recreated the conditions which lead to the amnesia, further attempts could damage the ‘Shad’ personality.”

Here, Dr Jansz paused, gathering her thoughts for the next part of the report.

“The conventional methods of treating dissociative amnesia have thus been ineffective in Commander Antilles’ case. I believe that, consciously or otherwise, the failure is due to resistance on the part of Commander Antilles himself.

As ‘Shad’, he has developed an idealized image of ‘Wedge Antilles’. Shad believes himself to be a weaker, less charismatic character, and fears that if he returns to being Wedge, then some part of the Shad persona will adversely affect the Wedge persona. Shad also cannot reconcile the image of the strong Wedge character with his knowledge of the person who was mentally and sexually dominated by Moff Raworth. In addition, Shad remains confused about his sexuality. There is no doubt that he gained pleasure from homosexual activities, but the fact that he was tricked into believing himself homosexual has left him uncertain about himself. He does, however, believe that Wedge Antilles is not homosexually inclined and this is another source of internal conflict. My recommendations at this point are to continue therapy sessions with Commander Antilles but with a different approach. I believe that to continue to push for memory recovery at this stage would be detrimental. The internal conflicts must be resolved first. At present, Shad’s insecurities are causing him to protect Wedge by continuing to block him off, just as he was blocked off to protect him from the interrogation. I need to work with Shad to resolve his insecurities. Only then will he take the risk of releasing his memories and exposing Wedge to the trauma of learning about his breakdown and his time as Shad.”

Dr Jansz paused again here, leaving time for her listeners to absorb what she’d just said. In spite of her technical, formal language, the warmth in her eyes reassured Leia that she cared about the subject of her report. Wedge wasn’t just a patient to Dr Jansz, but a confused and anxious person she was trying to help.

“It’s difficult to estimate a timeframe for Commander Antilles’ recovery. His experiences with Moff Raworth have made him suspicious of any attempt to influence his behaviour and beliefs, even when he knows the motives are good. It will take time to build up his trust in me, so he becomes receptive to my help and is willing to participate fully in psychotherapy. There’s no way this process can be hurried.

It is unlikely that Commander Antilles will be fit for active service in less than six months. A full recovery could well take longer. I expect that he will recover his memory in time, but there is always the possibility that his experiences may make him unsuitable for combat duty. Careful assessment will be necessary.”

Dr Jansz finished her report, and Admiral Ackbar switched off the display.

There was a silence, until Leia sighed. Ackbar rolled one eye in her direction.

“I, too, was hoping for better news,” he said. “Every time I ordered Commander Antilles into battle, I was prepared for the fact that he might not survive. I have been prepared to mourn the loss of a good man, someone I admire very much. When he disappeared, I knew it was likely that the next news we would have of him, would be of his execution. I was ready to accept his death, but not for this kind of loss.”

Leia blinked back sudden tears at the admiral’s words. “I know what you mean,” she answered. “It’s painful knowing that Wedge is alive, but so…damaged. If he’s dead, he’s dead; we learn to accept that and move on. But seeing him so hurt, and not knowing if or when he’ll recover.” She shook her head.

“He’ll have the best medical care the New Republic has,” Ackbar said.

“It’s the least Wedge deserves,” Leia said fiercely. “He’s given so much over the years. We wouldn’t be able to provide the kind of support he needs now if it wasn’t for him and all those he’s led and inspired.”

Ackbar nodded slowly, copying the human gesture. “I sincerely hope that one day Wedge will be fit to return to command. I regret his incapacity at a personal level, but even more so as his commanding officer. We are still at the early stages of planning our move on Coruscant, but I wish I knew whether Commander Antilles would be available as part of my forces.”

“From what Dr Jansz says, it would seem better to assume Wedge won’t be fit to fight,” Leia said, leaning back in her chair. “And with Tycho Celchu still missing, I don’t know who we’d have to lead a re-formed Rogue Squadron.” She sighed, and gazed across the office to the globe of water. “I had thought I might take a brief vacation and go visit Wedge, but it probably wouldn’t help. I just wish there was some way to help him.”

“I think we must put our trust in the specialists, like Dr Jansz,” Ackbar replied. “She will find the right approach”

“She’ll do as much as anyone can,” Leia agreed. “If only she could reach into his mind and heal it like a surgeon can heal a damaged body.” She paused, frowning, then her expression suddenly cleared. “Luke ! Luke might be able to reach Wedge and bring him back.”

“Through the Force, you mean ?” Ackbar asked.

“Yes ! There are some Jedi techniques for reading memories and he knows Wedge well.” Leia was sitting bolt upright on the edge of her chair.

Ackbar was more cautious. “Luke may be able to help in ways that Dr Jansz can’t, but there could be a risk to Commander Antilles. Your brother is not a trained psychologist. He could unintentionally make things worse, as Dr Jansz nearly did with the hypnotherapy.”

Leia considered this. “Then we’ll consult Dr Jansz. Luke can talk to her and take her advice on how to proceed.”

Ackbar nodded. “I, too, am anxious to see Wedge well again. If Luke thinks he can help, I am willing for him to do so.”

Leia smiled, a true, bright smile. “I’ll find Luke and get him to Wedge as soon as possible,” she promised.

It took ten days for Leia’s messages to reach Luke Skywalker, and another four days before his X-wing landed at Crieffs Base. Luke felt rather guilty at not coming here earlier. He'd been worried when Leia had first told him that Wedge had gone missing, but she’d assured him that General Cracken had assigned Intelligence units to the search. As weeks had passed, Luke had considered leaving his quest for further understanding of the Jedi, in order to help look for his friend, but then news had come that Wedge had been found. Luke had been aware that Wedge needed treatment to recover, but had allowed his attention to be absorbed by Jedi practices. Now, he hoped that some of what he had learned recently would be of value to the friend he’d neglected.

Following Leia’s suggestion, Luke visited Dr Jansz and talked to her before making contact with Wedge. He took to the smart, motherly psychologist at once, sensing nothing but the desire to help and heal in her. After a long discussion of Wedge’s condition, she consented to Luke’s offer of help.

“But here, in this office,” she told him firmly. “And I’ll be in attendance. If, at any point I ask you to stop, you must do so. Commander Antilles’ health must be our priority.”

Luke nodded. “I understand. I’d never intentionally hurt Wedge, but this could be a difficult task.”

“I suggest that you go and rest, eat, meditate or whatever you need to do to prepare yourself,” Dr Jansz said. “I’ll talk to Commander Antilles and see if he’ll consent to this experiment. I’ll do my best to persuade him, but if he refuses, we’ll have to accept that.”

“Of course. I just hope he agrees.” Luke wasn’t sure if he could help Wedge, but he sincerely wanted the chance to try.

In spite of his talk with Dr Jansz, Luke was still unprepared for the shock when he finally met Wedge, and found himself being looked at by a stranger. There was no recognition in Wedge’s eyes, but a wary reserve where there had once been trust. Even Wedge’s force sense was subtly different. Luke restricted his greeting to a handshake, instead of the hug that would have been so natural before. He let Wedge sit in his usual chair, with Dr Jansz close to one side, and pulled a light chair up close.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me,” he said to Wedge. “I can understand that this is a bit strange and nerve-racking for you.”

Wedge glanced at the doctor before answering. “Dr Jansz trusts you. She wanted me to try this.”

His force sense rippled with anxiety and a touch of resentment but Luke could feel something else; a yearning for trust and peace of mind. Under the fear and confusion, Wedge/Shad wanted to be whole again.

“This is going to feel strange,” Luke told him. “But it won’t hurt. I’ve made contact with you before through the Force.”

Curiosity replaced worry on Wedge’s face. “When was that ?”

“It was at Endor, when you intercepted a drone with a message and set off the self-destruct,” Luke told him. “You went EV to stop it exploding by jamming your hand into the mechanism.” At Wedge’s look of astonishment, Luke added. “No, it wasn’t a very sophisticated approach, but you didn’t have time to do anything else. Anyway, I came out in my X-wing to help, and as your hand was being so badly crushed, you asked me to help control the pain. I made contact with you through the Force and got the pain under control.”

Wedge was looking at him in wonder. Luke could feel a similar emotion from Dr Jansz, but he kept his attention on his old friend. Wedge wasn’t completely relaxed, but Luke could feel a willingness to trust growing in within him.

“Are you ready ?” he asked quietly.

Wedge took a deep breath. “What do you want me to do ?”

“Just lean back in your chair and relax. Close your eyes if you like; let your mind drift.”

As Wedge obediently relaxed into his chair and closed his eyes, Dr Jansz put one hand on his arm to reassure him of her presence.

Luke opened himself into the Force, reaching out to Wedge’s bright presence. Very delicately, he touched Wedge’s mind. Surprise and apprehension rippled through Wedge’s sense; his hands clenched into fists but he didn’t resist Luke’s contact. Luke began to probe Wedge’s memories, touching lightly on those at the surface of his mind. He glimpsed Shad’s recent life, his time at Crieffs Base. Luke sensed a dark knot of other memories, still of Shad but something held very privately. He let those alone and probed deeper, trying to find Wedge’s memories.

All he found was a very definite block. When he tried to push through, Wedge gasped and Luke felt him begin to resist. Luke lightened his contact, giving Wedge the chance to relax and calm down. As he waited, Luke considered how to approach the problem. Not being a Force-user, Wedge could only resist him so far. If Luke wanted, he could push through the barrier in Wedge’s mind and touch the memories hidden behind it. It was a brutal approach, which would certainly cause Wedge distress, and could harm him mentally. Luke needed to find a more subtle way through.

He began searching Wedge’s mind again, sliding through Shad’s memories, trying to find any memory that might connect in some way to that block. Luke made the briefest contact with each memory, more interested in its associations than with what Wedge/Shad actually remembered. In spite of his effort to intrude as little as possible, he could feel Wedge’s growing disturbance. He could feel Wedge’s heartbeat as clearly as his own, feel Wedge’s pulse rate rising and his blood pressure increasing. As Wedge became more agitated, his feelings set off a chain reaction of memories and associations in his mind. Somewhere in the whirlwind of impressions that Luke received, he felt one that he instinctively knew was important. His mind flickered that way, chasing the brief glimpse.

Wedge made a small sound of protest as Luke chased after the elusive memory. Luke was having to work harder as resistance grew. A moment later, Luke found the memory of a fire, of dreaming of fire. The memory seemed to reach through the block that separated Shad from Wedge. Luke understood in a heartbeat. Shad had dreamed of the fire that killed Wedge’s parents. Luke reached into the memory of the dream and followed it through the mental block to its connection to Wedge’s own experience. From there, Wedge’s memories opened up around him like a star going nova. From the fire to Booster Terrik, to Loka Hask and being imprisoned on Mrlsst. Flying his X-wing, flying through the heart of a Death Star, flying down the trench of another Death Star. Millions and millions of impressions, memories barely glimpsed by Luke. Wedge cried out as the block crumbled and his memories burst back into his conscious mind.

Luke immediately lightened his mental touch, just keeping a light contact with Wedge’s presence. Wedge was shaking his head, struggling to make sense of the conflicting memories and self-knowledge in his mind. He opened his eyes, looking at Luke and Dr Jansz in bewilderment.

“Where…what’s happening…who ?”

“It’s okay, Wedge,” Luke said, sending reassurance through the Force.

“You’re going to be all right,” Dr Jansz added.

Wedge stared at one then the other. “I know you,” he said to Luke. “And you,” he said to the doctor. “But I don’t…I know you both but you’re both strangers…I…” He curled up in his chair, covering his face with his hands.

“Breathe slowly,” Dr Jansz instructed him, rubbing his shoulder. “You’re in shock. Just breathe slowly and try to relax.”

Her Force presence was suffused with warmth and a confidence that reassured Luke. She didn’t seem to be as alarmed by Wedge’s reaction as he’d been. Luke reached into his own centre, letting his anxieties bleed away. He needed to be calm now. After a minute or so, he sensed Wedge beginning to calm down too. The initial wave of shock had passed, and Wedge lowered his hands. His eyes were stormy with emotion but Luke was relieved to see that the panic had gone.

“I’m Wedge. I became Shad; he told me my name was Shad. The moff. That’s what happened, isn’t it ?”

“That’s right,” Dr Jansz reassured him. “Dissociative amnesia brought on by the stress of interrogation.”

Wedge nodded, his eyes fixed on her motherly face. “You told Shad that. I remember you telling me, but it’s like it happened to someone else.”

“In a sense, it did,” she told him.

Wedge shuddered. “He broke me,” he whispered. “He made me…” His voice trailed off and Luke felt a sudden surge in his emotions: anger, humiliation, disgust and guilt.

Luke knew what Wedge was remembering. Dr Jansz had briefed him fully on the relationship between Shad and Moff Raworth, warning him that Shad’s conflicting feelings about his sexuality could cause problems. Luke felt desperately sorry for his friend, but for all his growing Jedi powers, he didn’t know how best to help.

Dr Jansz also knew what was on Wedge’s mind now.

“We know what he did to Shad,” she said gently. “Shad talked about it with me; do you remember ?”

Wedge hesitated, then nodded.

“Remembering your time as Shad hurts, doesn’t it ?” she asked.

Wedge dropped his gaze, nodded in a quick, jerky gesture, then looked back at the doctor’s face as though clinging to a lifeline.

“Did you ever, as Wedge, get drunk or angry, and do or say something you regretted later ?” Dr Jansz’s voice was still soft.

“Yes. I have,” Wedge answered.

“And if someone, say, shouted at you when you didn’t deserve it, and then later they apologized, would you forgive them ?”

“I guess so.”

“Becoming Shad, and knowing what Shad did, that hurts and it’s going to take time for the hurt to fade, but it will happen,” Dr Jansz said. “You, Wedge, weren’t in control when you were Shad. You can’t blame yourself for anything that Shad did. You have to forgive Shad, and remember that he didn’t really know what he was doing; he was manipulated. Think of him as someone who hurt you when he was drunk, and who has apologised. Do you understand ?”

“I think so.” Wedge closed his eyes. “It’s…it’s so difficult.” His voice grew hoarse and he struggled to choke back a sob.

Dr Jansz leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him against her comfortable body. “Go ahead, cry. There’s no shame in it.”

Wedge buried his face against her shoulder and wept.

Luke simply sat by and kept quiet, not wishing to disturb Wedge. When the worst pain had passed, and the sobs had eased into tearful sniffles, Luke used the Force to move a box of tissues to the table beside Dr Jansz’s chair. She saw the box floating across the room from her desk, and her eyes widened, but she said nothing. She continued to cradle Wedge, making gentle soothing sounds as he gradually recovered.

“That’s good, Wedge. Crying like that is very healing. I’m here to help you.”

When the sobs had ceased, and Wedge lifted his head from her shoulder, Dr Jansz calmly offered him a tissue. As Wedge recovered his composure, Luke quietly got up and fetched a glass of water.

“Here.” He offered Wedge the glass.

“Thank you.” Wedge drank most of the water in one go and slumped back into his chair. “I feel a bit better now.”

“You’ve still got a lot to come to terms with,” Dr Jansz said. “But you won’t be alone. I’m here to help you and support you for as long as you need it.”

“You’ve got your friends too,” Luke put in. “I can stay on here a while if you’d like me to.”

“Yes, yes I think I’d like that,” Wedge answered.

He still sounded frail, but Luke could see a new determination in his face. It was the determination of a man who would fly a snubfighter against a Death Star. Luke smiled in relief: Wedge would win this battle too.

For Wedge though, this was harder than fighting a Death Star. He’d known, with utter certainty, that the Death Stars had to be stopped, so his choice had simply been to destroy them or die in the attempt.This situation, the jumble of memories and difficult emotions, had Wedge deeply confused. While he was in Luke’s company, he felt he had a docking grapple to anchor himself to. When he said goodnight to Luke, and found himself alone in Shad’s quarters for the first time, he felt as though he were floating free in vacuum.

The room, the belongings, were familiar but strange. Dr Jansz had told him that Shad’s memories would soon become less vivid but at the moment he seemed to be seeing everything through two sets of eyes.

_Those coveralls: I wear them when Shad’s repairing repulsors. Here’s my flightsuit, at the back of the closet where Shad put it. One moment they seem strange to me, the next moment, they are as familiar as my face in the mirror. Who am I ? Who am I going to be ?_

He closed the closet door and leaned against it, closing his eyes. Memories of his time with the moff resurfaced in his mind, and he shuddered.

“I did it,” Wedge whispered. “I let him use me. I begged him to…” He shook his head fiercely and tried to push the thoughts aside.

Trying to keep his mind a blank, he readied himself for bed and climbed in.

_Bed. Shad’s bed. Wedge’s bed now. Shad’s bed. In the morning I’ll ask to be transferred to another room. Bed. Moff Raworth took me to bed; took me in his bed. It was Shad he took, not Wedge. I’m Wedge ! Same body. It was this body that responded to him. This cock that got hard at another man’s touch. Wedge was never interested in that: was I ? I don’t know myself any more._

Wedge flung the covers back and scrambled out of bed. The room lights came partway up, sufficient for him to see the bottle on the shelf near the door. It was a parting gift from Janson: Whyren’s Reserve. Wedge wrenched the cap off and stared at the bottle for a moment.

_This is a stupid idea. But here and now, I can’t think of a better one._

He upended the bottle and gulped a good portion of the amber liquid. Fumbling the lid back into place, Wedge replaced the bottle and returned to his bed. He drew the covers up over his head, and waited for sleep.

When he met up with Luke again the next morning, life seemed to make more sense to Wedge. Conversation distracted him from painful thoughts, and he found himself slipping back into his role as the Wedge that Luke knew. At breakfast, they reminisced about past meals in places long since abandoned or destroyed. The memories were strong in Wedge’s mind and his spirits rose as the old bonds of their friendship were renewed. All the same, after eating, he put in a request to be assigned to new accomodation. A few minutes later he had the keycard to a new room, and was soon back in the old one, packing his things.

As Wedge began folding his rather limited supply of clothes, Luke started on the other odds and ends about the room. He picked up the holocube and switched it on. Wedge glanced up, recognising the first image displayed as one from Hoth.

“That was the first snowball fight I ever had,” Luke recalled.

“Wes started it,” Wedge said.

Luke chuckled. “Wes always starts it, whatever ‘it’ is.”

Wedge smiled in return, thinking how true that statement was.

Luke continued to study the holos displayed by the cube as Wedge got on with his packing. He commented on each one, remarking on how much younger some people looked, sharing his own memories of the occasions he’d been part of. Deliberately or otherwise, his words strengthened Wedge’s slowly growing sense of self. As Luke talked so easily about things Wedge had seen and done, the less real the memories of Shad seemed to be.

Opening the closet, Wedge found himself looking at Shad’s coveralls. They smelt of vehicle lubricant, a powerful and very real smell. Wedge hesitated, reluctant to touch them.

_Maybe I should leave them behind, just forget all about Shad. But it won’t happen that easily, will it ?_

Wedge lifted the coveralls from the closet and turned back to see Luke, looking at another holo and smiling.

_Luke knows all about Shad. He was in my head. He knows what Shad and the moff did, how Shad yielded and begged for pleasure. But he’s not thinking about that. He’s disassociated what Shad did from the Wedge he knows. He doesn’t despise me for what I did when I was…sick. Like Dr Jansz said, Shad wasn’t really responsible for what he did; he was trying to protect Wedge, and survive somehow. And I did escape the interrogation by becoming Shad. And Shad did keep Moff Raworth from killing him, me, by doing what the moff wanted._

“Are you all right ?”

Wedge suddenly realized that Luke was staring at him.

“Uh, yeah. I was thinking,” he answered. “About Shad.”

Luke set down the holocube. “What were you thinking ?” he asked gently.

“That if I hadn’t become Shad, I’d probably be dead by now,” Wedge answered. “I guess I owe him.”

“You’re a survivor, Wedge, even if it means doing something unconventional like losing your identity for a while.”

Wedge managed a smile. “A strategy of rather limited applications, but it worked this time.” He began to fold the coveralls. _Maybe becoming Shad wasn’t such a symptom of weakness and failure. Yielding, instead of fighting, may have been the right thing to do. I think that’s how Luke sees it, so that’s why he doesn’t despise me for what Shad did with the moff. And if Luke Skywalker thinks it was acceptable, then I can learn to live with it too._

He packed Shad’s coveralls neatly into his bag.

That night though, sleep still didn’t come easily. Wedge shifted restlessly in his new bed, tired but unable to sleep. Without company to distract him, there was nothing to keep the anxious thoughts at bay. Unlike the night before, he was less worried about who he was. If someone had unexpectedly asked his name, his automatic answer would have been ‘Wedge Antilles’. Remembering his time as Shad was still disconcerting, but it was beginning to take on the quality of an extended dream.

The part he couldn’t forget was the intimate times with the moff. Moff Raworth had used him and manipulated him, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d responded physically.

_I enjoyed being held by another man. I liked the touch of his hand on my penis. I got pleasure from him making love to me. I’d never seriously thought about having sex with men before. I didn’t think I was that type. Now, I don’t know; I just don’t know what I want_.

Wedge rolled over onto his other side, drawing the covers up around himself. He stared across the room, seeing only the faintest shapes in the dim light from the window. He knew consciously that being homosexual was no big deal in most human cultures, and that most aliens simply wouldn’t care. Wedge didn’t care who his pilots slept with, so long as all parties were adults and consented to whatever they did. His only concern was whether anything affected flying skills or morale. If he’d declared himself to, say, Tycho or Wes as homosexual under ordinary circumstances, he was sure they would have accepted it.

_So why is this getting to me so badly now ?_

Wedge gave up any attempt to sleep. He sat up in bed, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms round them.

_It’s discovering I’m not who I thought I was._

He leaned forward, resting his head against his knees and closing his eyes against the sting of unshed tears. Wedge wanted to cry, although he wasn’t even sure why he did. It was partly the frustration of trying to hit a moving target. He was just starting to re-establish his sense of identity as Wedge Antilles, but a fundamental part of that identity had changed. All that frustration and anxiety welled up in him, spilling out in tears that slid silently down his face.

A quiet tapping at his door startled him from his misery. Wedge looked up, wondering if he’d imagined the sound. When it was repeated, he hastily wiped a hand across his face and climbed out of bed. Pulling on his robe, he opened the door to find Luke outside. Wedge blinked at him, puzzled.

“What is it ?” He hoped Luke wouldn’t notice the croakiness of his voice.

Luke’s expression was soft. “I thought you might want a friend with you.”

“Well, I…” Wedge didn’t know what he wanted. “How did you know..?”

“My room’s only a couple of doors away,” Luke reminded him gently. “I could feel your disturbance through the Force.”

Wedge sighed. “Come in.”

He put the lights half up, and retreated to sit on the bed again. Luke settled himself on the chair at the small workstation.

“You seemed a bit steadier today, more at ease with yourself” Luke said quietly. “Am I right ?”

Wedge just nodded, then forced himself to speak. “I think Shad’s…fading. I don’t feel so much like two people in one head any more. I’m Wedge, but…I think…I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m the same Wedge any more.” He blurted out the last sentence, then stopped suddenly and drew himself into his defensive posture, with his arms around his knees.

“What’s changed ?”

Wedge looked across at Luke, trying to guess how much he knew or could sense. He could see sympathy and concern on his friend’s face. Luke’s blue eyes were steady, concerned only by how he could help. Wedge took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

“It’s what I did with the moff,” Wedge said slowly. He forced himself to bring his worries into the open. “It wasn’t my idea, I never considered having sex with a man before, but I enjoyed it.”

“Did you enjoy it just because it pleased the moff ?”

Wedge shook his head. “I don’t know. If someone had come up to me before all this, and pointed at Wes, for example, and said “Do you want to sleep with him ?”, I’d have said “no”. I wasn’t interested in men. But, when I was with Moff Raworth, it was good. He tricked me into doing something I’d wouldn’t have chosen to do, but it felt good. Something always felt a little wrong about having sex with him, but I think it was because I knew he was using me.” Wedge paused, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Shad knew there was something wrong in that relationship but I didn’t know what. Moff Raworth was all Shad had in the galaxy and the moff created that situation and took advantage of it.” He stopped again, trying to keep himself on track. “I was uneasy because Moff Raworth was the wrong person to be having sex with, but when he started touching me, it turned me on. I wanted him to make love to me and make me come. I enjoyed having sex with a man !”

“I’ve never known you condemn anyone else for their sexuality,” Luke remarked. “Why are you bothered about it in yourself ?”

“I don’t know !” Wedge wailed. “That’s what I can’t make out.”

Luke sighed. “I wish I knew how to help, Wedge, but I’m not Dr Jansz. You might notice though that I haven’t run away screaming just because my friend’s told me he might be gay.”

Wedge couldn’t help smiling at that. “I guess you’re right there. And I’m not showing much faith in my friends if I think they’ll abandon me so easily.”

“Is it the way you found out you might be gay ?” Luke suggested. “The deception involved, or the fact that your first partner wasn’t someone you’d normally choose ?”

Wedge frowned and shook his head. “No, though those aspects probably do muddle things for me.” He sighed and leaned back against the wall, suddenly longing for a good shot of whiskey. “I’m trying to kind of blank off what happened with the moff; that was something that happened to Shad, not Wedge. That’s the easiest way for me to deal with it right now.” He tried to recapture his earlier thoughts. “I’m trying to become Wedge again, but something I thought I knew about Wedge has changed.”

“And you don’t like it ?”

“No, that’s not quite it.” Wedge tensed up, clenching his fists. “It’s not just about whether I want to be gay or straight, or bi.” He took a deep breath. “It’s that I knew I was straight. From the first time I started thinking about girls, I was thinking about… _girls_. I guess I wondered what gay sex was like, but I wasn’t inclined to try it. If you’d asked me for some facts about myself, I could have told you that I have hazel eyes, I’m right handed and I’m heterosexual. Basic, unchanging facts. And now it’s like waking up one morning and discovering your eyes have changed colour overnight. Or more like discovering you’ve got breasts instead of a dick.”

Luke’s eyes widened as he contemplated this. “I’m beginning to see what you’re getting at. I suppose it’s like how I felt when I first really experienced the Force. That changed everything for me. It certainly changed who I am.”

Wedge nodded, feeling a sudden lift at finally grasping the problem and knowing someone understood.

“That’s it, Luke. I thought I knew who and what I was, but suddenly it’s all changed. And I feel lost.” He gazed at Luke, needing reassurance.

Luke thought before answering. “It won’t last forever, Wedge, the feeling. You’ll adapt in time, like I did after discovering that Darth Vader was my father.”

_Or like I did after my parents died. That hurt, and it changed me, but I survived._ Wedge fought back the surge of pain that came with the memory of his parents’ deaths. _If they hadn’t died, I probably wouldn’t have joined the Rebellion. With the Rebellion, I’ve helped deliver people from a life of fear. The galaxy is and will be a better place for what we achieved. And the gender I chose to sleep with makes no difference to my ability to fly an X-wing._ He let out a long sigh.

“Getting things in perspective ?” Luke asked.

“Reading my mind ?” Wedge replied.

Luke smiled. “I don’t need the Force to guess how you’re thinking at the moment.”

“I guess not.” Wedge relaxed, straightening his legs and leaning back against the wall again. “You’re right; I’ll get used to the idea that I can get turned on by men as well as women.”

“It’ll double your chances of getting a date,” Luke pointed out.

Wedge laughed aloud. “That sounds like something Janson would say.”

“Well, he’s not here so I figured someone had to say it.”

Wedge gave an exaggerated groan. “One Wes Janson is enough for any galaxy. But thanks for coming here, Luke. I feel better now.”

Luke rose. “I’m glad I could help. It’s what I’m here for, remember ?”

Wedge nodded.

“Good night then.” Luke touched Wedge on the shoulder, and left.

Wedge sat in the semi-darkness for a few minutes, trying to let his mind slow down and relax. _It’s still strange to think of myself as someone who may chose to sleep with men. It’s going to take time to assimilate that. But I can’t run away from what I did and how I felt. Some part of me has changed deeply, but some things are the same. I still want to fly, and fight. I’ll try to concentrate on those things, and let my sexuality sort itself out. What will be will be._

He took off his robe, turned the lights out and slid down till he was stretched out comfortably in his bed. At last, he closed his eyes and slept.

The night before Luke left Crieffs Base, they went to the bar together. It was busy, but they found a small table and a couple of stools. They chatted amiably for a while, sharing memories of bars on other worlds and other bases. The conversation lapsed a little, until Wedge spoke.

“I never really said ‘thank you’,” he remarked. “For coming here and helping me.”

Luke smiled. “I’m glad I could. It makes a change to use my Jedi abilities to help someone specific, a friend, rather than thinking in galactic terms.”

“Makes me feel how lucky I am, to have a friend who just happens to be the galaxy’s only Jedi.” Wedge grinned wryly.

“Some people believe you get the luck you deserve,” Luke answered. “I’m just happy to see my friend getting back on his feet again.”

“I’m pretty much there,” Wedge said. “I’ll never quite forget being Shad.”

“How do you feel about Shad now ?” Luke asked quietly.

“Mostly, I feel sorry for him,” Wedge said. “He was deceived and abused, he knew that Wedge’s friends wanted Wedge, not him. He was confused about himself in every way. Dr Jansz has really helped me get Shad in perspective.”

“Can you forgive him ?”

Wedge nodded. “He was a victim. I can accept what happened to Shad. It’s part of my, Wedge’s, life, and I can’t change that, but I can accept it without letting it swamp me. It’s not easy, but I’m getting there,”

“What about your other worries ?” Luke asked.

“Dr Jansz reminded me of something she told Shad,” Wedge answered quietly. “That sexuality isn’t always as fixed as we think it is. I’m not going to make any choices at the moment; I want to get used to the idea that I have more choices than I thought I did.” He shrugged. “It may just depend on who or what comes along. I’ll try not to worry about it.

Wedge paused, then his face brightened, half-smiling. “I’m beginning to look forward to leaving here and getting on with things again.”

“Do you know what you want to do next ?”

“Yes.” Wedge looked straight at Luke. “As soon as I’m passed fit, I’m going back to Starfighter Command. They may want me to do some more PR work at first, but I intend to fly an X-wing again. I haven’t finished fighting the Empire.” He saw Luke’s slight frown. “I’m not after revenge for what happened to me. Moff Raworth is the only person who can be blamed, and he’s already dead.”

Wedge paused, biting softly on his lower lip as he tried to get his thoughts straight.

“That whole system needs to be destroyed. I was a prisoner in the Imperial system, and yet I vanished from within that system. Moff Raworth had the power to put me in hiding, and no one could question what he’d done, or what had happened to me. The people who worked at his residence knew that Shad was locked in the Moff’s quarters, that he was some kind of prisoner, but no one either cared enough, or dared to say anything about it. No one should be able to wield that kind of power over another being, to do what they like without being held to account. That’s what I want to destroy, and I can do it best from an X-wing.”

Luke looked at him admiringly. “That sounds like the Wedge I flew with.”

Wedge chuckled and held up his glass of whiskey. “To flying, and to the return of Rogue Squadron.”

Luke raised his glass too. “To flying, and to Rogue Squadron.” He echoed the toast.

They drank.

The morning after Luke’s departure, Wedge made his first visit to the simulator room on Crieffs Base. He’d avoided it when he was Shad, unwilling to test himself in a place where Wedge excelled. Now he was in his comfortable orange flightsuit, his helmet under his arm. Wedge settled himself into one of the X-wing simulators, a pleasant pulse of excitement in his veins. He strapped himself in and tugged his helmet on, actions as familiar as brushing his teeth. The cockpit lit up around him as he adjusted the controls to suit his height and flying style. The main display unit offered him a choice of sims to fly, and Wedge felt a touch of pride in seeing that several of them were based on actual missions he’d commanded. He selected one almost at random, then hesitated briefly over difficulty level. It was over six months since he’d last sat in a cockpit, virtual or otherwise. With a grin that any being in the galaxy would have identified as ‘pure Corellian’, Wedge selected the hardest level of difficulty. A computerized voice spoke to him through his helmet speakers.

“Please state your name and a squadron designation, if applicable.”

He smiled. “Commander Wedge Antilles, Rogue Leader. Four lit and ready to fly.”


End file.
